Prejudice Pigs
by Randomly writing
Summary: (Inspired by the Regency period, but with subtle adaptations). Blaine is a young man who is bored with the way society works. He is different. Polite to all the family servants, kind and values every living person. Kurt is the only teenage servant working for the Anderson family, he accepts his low status in society. Blaine does not.
1. Prologue

**Note: Mrs Amaro. 'Amaro' is Italian for 'bitter'. **

**0000**

Blaine Anderson was bored. Simple as that. He was a very bored sixteen year old man. He was different from the others that lived within the mansion, in more ways than one. He made sure to always thank the servants and cooks, although most of them were bitter and never accepted his appreciation. His father was a very wealthy man, but he was also very strict with the servants. He knew that in society everybody had their places, everybody had their status, and everybody had their duties. Because he was sixteen his father was trying to make Blaine see that marriage was not such a bad thing. But, after witnessing his son's reluctance, he agreed that he would let him wait a few more years before trying to get him a partner. Cooper would inherit the family wealth after their father's death, providing them with financial security – but still, the boys had to marry at some point to increase their family's wealth and status further. It all felt ridiculous to Blaine, like he was born into the wrong century or something like that. It amused him that after growing up in this place he still managed to discover new rooms. He mused to himself that he had only entered some of them once and then neglected them, deeming them drab and far too pristine for his casual tastes. He pushed a door open and peaked in.

The room was large; it was most commonly used for some of the smaller dances that they sometimes hosted. It was daunting to think of how quiet this room now was, without the meaningless drivel that pretentious people spouted echoing off the walls. In the centre of the room, crouched on his knees beside a splintered bucket was a young man, who didn't seem as old as most of the servants at their mansion. His father had always said that training servants who were children or nearing the age of thirteen was a waste of time, they always got servants into their late twenties and older. Those who knew and accepted the harsh realities of life. So then why was a man so young hunched over, scrubbing the marble floor? Slowly Blaine entered the room further and closed the door softly, careful not to allow it to make a noise. He approached cautiously. The boy had light alabaster skin with brunette hair that defied gravity, swooping up attractively to one side. He was wearing a white buttoned up shirt that was evidently too big, with the sleeves rolled up, and black trousers that were torn at the knees. Blaine vaguely wondered what would have caused the rips on his trousers. The boy looked very tired indeed. His face had a slightly red tint, and his knuckles had gone white from scrubbing for so long. Bags stuck out under his eyes as though they were painted on. Speaking of eyes, Blaine had never seen such captivating blue eyes. He must have been staring, because soon enough the boy raised his head – locking those striking eyes onto him.

"Master Anderson," The boy started. His voice was light and soft, but sounded nice and calming. "Is there something I can do for you?" Blaine shook his head back into focus.

"Oh. Uhm, no, nothing at all. But thank you." He said. The boy nodded. Blaine almost had to ask how the boy had known who he was, but stopped himself when he realised how foolish it would sound. "I don't think I've seen you around before." He pointed out. The boy squeezed the sponge over the bucket.

"I have being working here for a year, sir. My father had fallen very ill, but the treatment he would need was quite expensive. I started to work here after your father found me on the street," He wiped his forehead of sweat with his arm before continuing. "But my father did not make it." Blaine noticed the pained look that crossed the boy's face. The deep anguish caused by the loss of a father who, Blaine guessed, meant more to him than anything else in the world. "I had nowhere else to go; our family was quite poor – my mother also died when I was eight. So your father kept me on here."

"I… I'm so sorry; I don't know what to say…" The boy just shrugged his shoulders, but his eyes were cast down at the floor. He paused a moment before he continued scrubbing. "My father usually does not take in young people to become servants." It was a statement, but clearly he was expecting this boy to answer regardless.

"Your father does not like to _train_ new servants, Mr Anderson. Doing so would mean that they might mess up and make him, or the family, look bad. I have been a servant since I was six years old. I know exactly how to behave, and know my place." He squeezed the sponge into the bucket again and stood up, picking up the handle. Blaine was a little surprised to see the boy was only slightly taller than him.

"How old are you?" Blaine wondered. The servant looked at him and paused for a moment, as though trying to remember his age, which made Blaine feel a bit bad. He had heard of servants being so dehumanised that they would even forget their own ages.

"I'm seventeen, sir." The boy answered flatly, as though he simply did not care or see the relevance in discussing his age. Blaine didn't know how he felt about it. This boy was a year older than him, he had never spoken to another person his own age, or close to his age, before – well, aside from the people that his father tried to get him to consider marrying.

"And your name?" The boy tilted his head.

"Kurt Hummel, sir." Blaine almost winced at the amount of times this person was calling him 'sir', 'master', or 'Mr Anderson'. He liked the name though. Kurt. It was a nice name. Blaine smiled a little bit and held out his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Kurt. I am Blaine." Kurt glanced at Blaine's hand and shuffled his feet awkwardly. At first Blaine thought that Kurt was uncomfortable around him, but then he noticed something. Kurt's hands were red raw with a couple of cuts and bandages – undoubtedly caused by hard work.

"I know your name, sir."

"No, I mean, you can call me Blaine." He slowly lowered his hand when he realised that the contact might irritate Kurt's hand. The boy shook his head.

"It would not be proper of me," He started. "I am your servant, I am beneath you." Blaine stared at him. _This _was why he felt like he was in the wrong century. He didn't agree that one person could be valued more than another simply because of how much money they had. It was ridiculous. If Kurt were to grow ill and pass away it was horrifying to think that nobody would really care that much. He would be taken off the earth as though he had never been on it. The thought made him sad.

"Don't say that," Blaine started. "No-one is worth less than another person. I'm younger than you, for goodness sake." He was getting frustrated. Kurt looked at him in surprise, though confusion was definitely evident on his face too. The only kindness he had been shown while at the mansion was simply the fact that he had a roof over his head – even if that roof was not a home to him.

"Master, please relax," Kurt said, holding up his free hand in an attempt to calm him. "This is simply how things are." Blaine, in a very ungentlemanly like fashion, threw up his hands in frustration.

"I don't like things the way they are!" Kurt watched him, unsure of what he was supposed to do in this situation. The doors opened then, and Mr Anderson stepped into the room. He was a cleanly shaven man with dark hair and piercing eyes. Blaine's father took in the scene and approached them.

"Is there a problem here?" He asked his son. Blaine shook his head.

"No, I just met Kurt." Blaine said, gesturing to the servant. Mr Anderson nodded and directed his attention to Kurt, who – Blaine noticed – shrank back ever so slightly.

"Hummel, did you finish your work?" He asked. Kurt nodded and glanced down at the floor. Mr Anderson nodded. "Really? Because I believe that in addition I also asked you to empty the chamber pots. But because you were not around Mrs Amaro was forced to do it herself. She is far from pleased. What do you have to say for yourself?" Recognition appeared in Kurt's slightly widened eyes. He felt himself growing slightly paler, making the bags under his eyes all that more clear.

"I'm sorry, sir, I was so preoccupied that I didn't-" A push. A gasp. That was all it took. Mr Anderson had shoved Kurt roughly in the chest. Under normal circumstances it would have amounted to nothing more than a show of aggression. But as it was, Kurt's body had been weakened by hard labour. He stumbled back in surprise, the bucket flying out of his hand and spilling all over him as he hit the floor. He squeezed his eyes closed as he banged his head on the floor. He groaned softly and brought a hand to the back of his head, sitting up.

"Now look at what you have done. Clear up this mess and get back to work. You're needed out in the garden, and because you have been messing around, you do not have time to change into dry clothes." Blaine stared at his father, he really wanted to say something but he was too shocked to form a coherent sentence. When his father left the room he knelt by Kurt's side, not caring about the spilled water. Kurt was shivering already. Blaine touched the boy's arm, recoiling by just how cold the water really was.

"My goodness, you are freezing," Blaine hurriedly took off his expensive black coat, but as he moved to put it on Kurt's shoulders, he was surprised when the boy raised a hand to stop him. "Kurt?"

"Sir, I appreciate the kindness, but I cannot." It suddenly dawned on Blaine that the tears in Kurt's jeans must have been caused by aggressive mistreatment inflicted by his – Blaine's- father.

"You shall freeze to death if you do not take this." Blaine insisted, but still Kurt turned his head away. He knew that Kurt probably was dying to ask for help right now, desperate for sleep or anything that would be less of a burden on his aching and tired body. But Blaine suspected that it was either pride, or fear that prevented Kurt from asking for help. "Please, Kurt."

"You are the first person here to call me by my first name," Kurt commented quietly, his tone seemed indifferent. Blaine couldn't depict how Kurt was feeling when he made that comment. "Usually it is simply 'Hummel' or merely degrading terms of address." He did wonder what other people called Kurt if they didn't call him 'Hummel'.

"Well, with your permission, I would like to call you by your name." Blaine spoke kindly, gently moving Kurt's hand aside and draping his coat over the shaking boy's shoulders. Kurt's head remained turned away for a short moment, processing everything. Then he realised that he had yet to clean up the mess.

"If you will excuse me, sir, I must clean this up. Dinner will be served shortly, so you should meet with your parents in the dining room." Blaine looked at him.

"Are you giving me an order?" Kurt's eyes widened slightly but all Blaine did was chuckle softly. "I am kidding, Kurt, do not look so worried around me. We are friends, right?" Kurt sucked in a breath.

"Sir, it would not appro-" He started.

"Oh, I was not asking. We are friends. You are an interesting person, Kurt. I do hope to learn your story." He smiled gently at him. As he turned away he was almost certain that he heard a flicker of a chuckle coming from the less fortunate boy. But because it was so faint and distant, it could have been mistaken for nothing at all.


	2. Stories

After finishing up in the garden Kurt returned to the servants' quarters in the basement of the mansion, clutching Blaine's black coat tightly to his shivering frame. He still couldn't get his head around what Blaine might be thinking. First the young man hadn't even noticed that Kurt had been working there for a year, and second he seemed like one of the most un-prejudiced people Kurt had ever met. As he descended the creaky stairs Kurt's mind drifted back to thoughts and memories of his father, back when he was still alive. Burt had been a terrific father. Despite being poor his father still managed to somehow get the best out of life, urging Kurt by telling him that settling means giving up. It seems like Kurt is simply settling now. Doing exactly what he is told and enduring harsh treatment just to ensure a roof over his head and food in his stomach. His eyes slowly slid closed and a small breath left his lips. Instantly the door before him slammed open to reveal a short, skinny woman. She had white hair and many wrinkles, each wrinkle an indication of every sacrifice and hardship endured in her life. She wore a mean expression as she studied him, but slowly the expression melted into concern. She was the housekeeper.

"Mrs Amaro," He started apologetically. "I am sorry I neglected to empty the chamber pots." She sighed and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Did Mr Anderson do that to you, boy?" She asked, gesturing with one hand to his drenched – and now transparent – shirt. Kurt glanced down and then up. He didn't need to answer her with words. "Come on down, let's get you cleaned up." He nodded and followed her through the doorway. Mrs Amaro was a widowed woman with no children, yet she still proved to be a decent motherly figure to Kurt, Maria and Justin. Maria was a young woman in her early twenties who handled the cooking and cleaning, she was often the person who worked with Mrs Amaro the most. She had been quite reserved at first, but slowly she was able to start opening up and conversing with the other servants. Her long brown hair was pulled up into a tight bun that kept a painted smile on her face whenever called upon by Lady Anderson. Justin was the carriage driver and butler. He would escort new guests to their rooms should they stay over, he would be assigned to care specifically for the guests, and if they had no guests or escorts to make then he would simply help the other servants. He was in his mid-twenties, contrary to Mr Anderson he was not cleanly shaved and appeared to look much older than he was in reality. "Change into that." Kurt turned just in time to catch another white shirt which seemed to have been drying by the small fire they had. Grateful for the warmth he gently hung up Blaine's coat and tore his shirt off his head, replacing it in favour of the warmer shirt.

"Thank you, Mrs Amaro." He said gratefully, causing a respectable nod from the older woman. The woman's eyes settled on the black coat that Kurt had hung up.

"What is that?" She asked as she approached the hook. Kurt watched her.

"Blaine Anderson," He told her, causing her to look startled. "He was with me in one of the empty ballrooms. When Mr Anderson pushed me over and the water spilled Blaine insisted I take his coat." Kurt picked up a bottle of nearby water and took a quick drink of it, careful to leave enough water in it should anyone else choose to be have a drink. Mrs Amaro's expression did not change.

"You must return it immediately!" She said sharply, as though surprised Kurt had even accepted it to begin with.

"I was not going to keep it," He said incredulously, looking back at her. "It was a loan until I could change." Mrs Amaro approached him and gently placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Listen, dear," She began softly. "I am very happy that the young master was kind to you. But you know how it will look if a servant is seen with that coat, it may even get young Blaine in trouble with his parents. He's a good boy that one and he's very rare. They don't have gentlemen like him around anymore." Kurt's eyes became sad; he knew her words were true. She was not speaking to be a critic, or to be cruel. She was telling him the honest truth he needed to hear. She was concerned for him; she was like the mother that Kurt had lost long ago.

"I know," He admitted. "If my father were here now, I bet he would be significantly disappointed with me." Mrs Amaro shook her head.

"No, my dear, he would be very proud indeed," She began, causing Kurt to slowly look her in the eyes. "Life is very hard. But as long as you keep a good heart, as long as you remember your value as a person… then you will never lose yourself."

"We are servants. If one of us dies down here the master will replace us as though we don't matter." He replied dejectedly and matter of factly.

"Oh, that is where you are wrong," She told him with a twinkle in her eyes. "It will matter to me. It will also matter to Maria and Justin. Everyone has at least one person by their side, no matter their status in society. Don't let their prejudice dehumanise you, Kurt, I have never let them do so to me." She gave him an honest smile that contagiously spread to him. He hugged her.

"Thank you," He said as he embraced her. "You would have been an excellent mother." He mumbled gently, causing her to rub his back calmly – just like his mother used to do.

"Is everything alright?" Asked a nearby voice. Kurt parted from Mrs Amaro and saw Justin leaning in the doorframe. Kurt gave him a sheepish smile as he nodded. "Kurt?" Justin and Maria, like Kurt, never really had the chance to stop and talk much. When the three did have a conversation they never said each others names, so it was weird to hear his name come from the voice of yet another person.

"I'm quite alright," He replied with a nod. "Tell me, have the family had their dinner?"

"They finished dining not long before you came back down." He informed him with a nod. Kurt took a deep breath and plucked the coat from the hook. "What're you doing with that?" Justin asked with a puzzled expression.

"I'll fill you in." Mrs Amaro told him. Justin shrugged and let Kurt pass him. Eventually Kurt managed to make it to Blaine's room. He knocked twice on the door and waited patiently.

"Come in." A voice called out from within. Kurt opened the door slightly and slipped inside the room as silently as a ghost, before closing the door again with a soft click. "Kurt?" Blaine was looking at him with mild surprise, after getting over this he gave him a small smile and walked over. Kurt simply walked past him and to the wardrobe, where he grabbed a coat hanger and hung up Blaine's coat.

"Thank you, sir," He said calmly, keeping his eyes on the coat as he hung it up. "For the kindness." He could feel Blaine's eyes burning holes in his back, so he turned around and straightened his back.

"You don't have to thank someone for being kind," Blaine said, walking towards him. "It's human nature." From here Kurt could appreciate just how bright Blaine's hazel eyes were. And his hair, which Kurt could tell was naturally curly, was slick and smooth. That hair gel was practically a prison.

"It should be human nature," Kurt shrugged. A look crossed his face and he seemed to be under the impression that he had forgotten himself in the presence of Blaine. "Oh, forgive me, sir, how rude of me!" He babbled animatedly. Blaine was startled at first but he slowly gave him a warm smile. He put a hand on Kurt's arm, calming him.

"It is quite alright; say whatever you like around me, I do not mind." Kurt sighed in relief and let his shoulders sag slightly. Blaine was really cute, Kurt had to admit. Wait! He can't think that! He internally slapped himself for thinking such things. "Are you okay?" Kurt looked him in the eyes and lost his voice. He simply nodded. Blaine walked over to the window where there were two chairs, he gestured to them both – inviting Kurt to join him. Kurt walked over hesitantly as Blaine lowered himself into one of the chairs. Kurt did not sit. "Let us talk."

"About what, sir?" Kurt asked, confused. He heard Blaine sigh while a look of frustration mixed with sadness crossed his face.

"I have told you, call me Blaine." When Kurt said nothing in response he continued speaking. "Let us talk about you. I meant what I said. I do very much want to know your story."

"My story does not end with a happily ever after." Kurt pointed out sheepishly as he slowly lowered himself into the chair offered to him. "Many stories that do are almost always fake."

"You like to read then, I assume?" Blaine asked.

"My mother taught me when I was very young. Most who are servants do not always get the proper education they need. But my mother was very intelligent because she was a private tutor to the ladies that we worked for." A small and gentle smile came to the boy's face as his eyes glistened with ghostly memories.

"She must have been an amazing woman." Blaine spoke carefully.

"Oh, indeed," Kurt agreed. "Truly an exceptional woman."

"Kurt," Blaine started quietly. "What happened to her?" Kurt's face darkened and contorted with anguish. He looked down and closed his eyes, trapping unshed tears and refusing to let them escape. "Was she ill, like your father?"

"No," He said bitterly. "She was killed. S-Some homeless man saw her pass in the street. She had some bread with her, and he was desperate. He attacked her and stole the bread. Guess he didn't know his own strength." Blaine watched carefully as he noticed Kurt's hands gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles turned ghostly white. The pale boy's face was now flushing with colour as his body shook slightly – both from rage and misery. Blaine couldn't believe what he was hearing. To have lost both parents in such cruel ways, and on top of that have no-one else to turn to. To be unable to grieve properly without being scolded, because you must finish the chores set by a wealthier family. That was cruelty in itself.

"I am so sorry, Kurt, I wish there was something I could do. I wish you didn't have to be a servant." Blaine said earnestly, moving his chair so that it was closer to the less fortunate boy. He put a hand on his back, but Kurt did not seem to notice.

"I have no choice," His voice was higher now. He was fighting to keep it steady, and seemingly inwardly slapping himself for his inability to do so. "I have to survive somehow, it is what they would want. It is a hard life." And now he was crying. Blaine immediately forgot about appearances and sophistication as he rose to his feet and pulled the boy up, hugging him tightly. Kurt settled himself into the embrace, finally letting out what he had fought so hard to keep in. Blaine wasn't sure how long they had stayed like that. Seconds? Minutes? He didn't care. "I-I apologise." Kurt eventually said, pulling away and turning his back. It was no secret that he had been crying, but he seemed to want to save himself from further embarrassment. He did not like for anyone to see him cry. "How weak I must look right now." He mumbled. Blaine shook his head.

"No, I just think you've been strong for far too long." Blaine said softly and put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. Said boy froze under the touch. "Everyone will shed tears at some point in their life, do not be ashamed. I am not here to judge you." Kurt stopped sniffling. His back was still facing Blaine, but nevertheless Kurt turned his head slightly. Though he was not facing his master, he was still listening to his words. "I would like to know more about you, Kurt Hummel, though I think it would be best to take small steps."

"Sir, forgive me for asking, but why the interest?" Kurt asked genuinely. "I do indeed doubt that the background of a servant is beneficial to anything."

"Everyone needs someone, Kurt. I know you have the other servants, but you are all so very busy." This was indeed very true. Kurt knew that Justin, Maria and Mrs Amaro had their stories – everyone has stories. But Kurt had never had a minute alone with them to actually speak. They took care of each other, but they were blind to each other's full identities.

"Then why have you shown interest in me? Why not the other servants?" He asked.

"Because out of all the servants I have seen… You were the only one who seemed detached and almost indifferent." Kurt said nothing to that because he knew it was true. Maria usually hummed old songs as she worked, and no-one seemed to mind. Justin was always focussed and warm spirited to everyone he met. And Mrs Amaro… Sure she had her moments where she was not very happy, but she still had a steely determination that she would use to battle through life like a soldier. "So, one day, will you tell me your full story?" Blaine asked as Kurt excused himself and walked to the door. He paused.

"My story is a simple one."

"Ah, but every story has the ability to create a new chapter. Plot twists, Kurt, I'm sure you are familiar with that term." A small smile tugged at Kurt's lips as he slid out of the room with silent grace.

_Note: Thank you, everyone, for the outstanding reviews! I am so glad you like the story. This story is inspired by Longbourn by Jo Baker and Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. _

_Coming up next, a lot of you already guessed it, we see an ENTIRE CHAPTER of Kurt's point of view. The chapter will show Kurt's point of view from his past. Please review if you liked this chapter! _


	3. The boy who wanted to fly

**Note: So someone asked me to say how frequently I'd be updating. The thing is, I also have another story I'm consistently updating and I'm finishing my final year of college so I'm making the transition to University. I do not have much time usually so I can't give a schedule to when a chapter will be updated as I plan on putting a lot of time and effort into these chapters. I know how it will play out, who will be in the story and even how it will end. I am still going to keep updating but I can't give out a set time because I may not be able to update in time with a schedule. **

**0000**

I have always loved stories, ever since I was little. And here's my story.

_My name is Kurt Hummel, I'm eight years old! At the moment I'm in my room in the basement of my master's home. I'm wearing a dark grey jumper that practically buries me, while also wearing tattered trousers. I shivered against the coldness of the damp room and wrapped my arms around myself. I had just finished tending to the gardens, it did not help that it was the dead of winter either. I raised my eyes when I saw the door slowly open. I smiled when my mum walked into the room with a book tucked under her arm. _

"_How's my little man?" She asked softly. Her voice was like music, and somehow I didn't mind being poor. I have all I could need- my mother and father. Nothing could hurt me as long as they were around. "I am sorry that I am late back, sweetie, but I've brought your story." She set herself down on my bed, allowing me to cuddle up to her. The only story I could really remember was 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner' and though it wasn't a happy tale, I still enjoyed it. The extended poem was unique and amazed me. The poem was from 1978. Mum told me that learning to understand poetry meant that I would be able to truly appreciated novels for their clever use of language techniques. The symbolism in the poem astounded me, and would later help me notice symbolism in little things in books. _

"_Poor Mariner," I mumbled to himself. "But he still shouldn't have shot the Albacross." _

"_Albatross." Mum corrected with a soft giggle. I giggled in reply and read the poem quietly along with my mum, occasionally flushing in embarrassment when I said certain lines entirely wrong. _

"_How was your day, mummy?" I asked innocently, looking up at her curiously. Mum's smile was soft and angelic as she ruffled my hair, causing me to gasp and frantically try and fix it. _

"_It was lovely, dear, the young master is learning very quickly." I nodded and clapped my hands happily. Just then dad tapped lightly on the door and walked in with a tired smile. I hopped off the bed and ran to him. Dad lifted me up and spun me around, making me squeal. "Well hello there." Mum chuckled as she walked over. Dad held his me in his arms and smiled as mum got closer. They both kissed and I pretended to throw up, teasing them light-hearted. Dad rolled his eyes._

"_Don't make me dangle you upside down." He threatened. I stuck my tongue my tongue out at him, causing him to raise his eyebrows. My mum and dad shared a look over my shoulder. Suddenly, before I could even react, the world whirled and I was dangling upside down. I screeched and flailed wildly, covering my eyes._

"_Put me dooown!" I exclaimed loudly. _

"_Did you hear something, dear?" I heard mum ask. I opened my eyes slightly and saw her cross her arms. _

"_Nothing at all." I heard dad laugh. I continued to flail._

"_Stooop!" I whined. Eventually dad set me down on the floor. I pouted, crossing my arms and frowning at him. But my dad's chuckling face made me smile again. _

"_Sweetie," Mum said, kneeling down next to me. I turned my attention to her. "I forgot to say earlier, but I have to go into town. The cook needs some more bread and everyone else is busy."_

"_I could go get it for you!" I beamed up at her, eager to help in any possible way. Mum's smile always seemed to encourage me. _

"_Thank you, sweetie, but it's late and I can't have you out so let. Growing boys need their sleep." _

That was the last time I'd seen her alive…

_I woke up with a gasp. The thunder exploded outside the window, rain soon following. I could hear the mutterings and shuffles of the servants moving around outside my room. I dragged my blanket with me as I scooted over to the window. There was something about the dark sky that concerned me. There was one star that shined brighter than the rest, and though it was a beautiful sight… I felt as though something had struck my heart. Why was I suddenly so scared? I jumped down from my bed and slowly pushed my door open. People were running back and forth, not noticing me as they shoved their way past. I grunted and fell onto the floor, dazed and confused. Slowly I picked myself up and follow the people that had passed me. I heard a loud cry of pain… From a deep voice…Dad. _

"_NO! ELIZABETH, ELIZABETH!" Daddy screeched. He threw himself to the floor; suddenly he was surrounded by people. I frowned and felt the fear tug at my nerves once again. Why was he crying mummy's name? She's only out getting bread, she won't be late home. I walked closer, trying to preserve these thoughts. 'She's safe, she'll be home soon'. My eyes widened when I saw what my dad was crying about. My mum was lying on the dirty floor, her face pale and her eyes wide and glassy. There was no light in her eyes, she wasn't seeing anything anymore. I didn't look at my dad, I couldn't, my eyes were glued to hers. _

"_Mummy…?" I whimpered. The other servants recognised my presence but they made no move to keep me away. They were crying silent tears, speaking no words. I stepped closer and kneeled down on the floor, taking her hand. I recoiled slightly. She was frozen. "Mummy… wake up, please? You're so cold; you can have my blanket if you want." Mummy had always joked that she could fall asleep with her eyes open. Maybe it wasn't a joke… Maybe she was doing just that, and everyone was overreacting. I looked to my dad, seeing his face twisted in anguish. "It's ok, daddy, she's just sleeping." I said comfortingly, but my words didn't seem to mean anything. In fact, they seemed to hurt him even more. _

"_Kurt," Said the footman, kneeling down to me. He put a hand on my shoulder. "Listen, I was told that your mother was attacked. A homeless man in the streets saw her with the bread, he was desperate. It seems he didn't know his own strength. Some passing soldiers found out which family she belonged to and brought her here. I'm sorry, kid, but she's gone." He had spoken carefully, as though I was going to break if he didn't. I shook my head, the tears building up in my own eyes. _

"_No, no, mummy is ok," I insisted, watching the man's face twist into pity. "She's just sleeping!" I exclaimed, tears running down my face. Maybe if I willed it enough, it would be true. I was always told that if you want something bad enough, then there is always a way to make it happen. I willed myself to believe she was alive, internally prayed to the god I didn't believe in. I threw myself next to her and cuddled up to her, gripping her shirt tightly in my hands. "Wake up, wake up." I whimpered brokenly. "Don't leave, mummy. Remember you said I could be a writer some day? That's because you've made it possible for me to be able to leave. I love you, please don't go." _

The funeral was the worst part. Our master's had shown up to pay their 'respects', and then it was our turn…

"_Why isn't there a headstone?" I asked gravely. I heard my dad sigh from beside me. _

"_You know we can't afford one, buddy." He said gently. I nodded mutely, silent tears rolling down my cheeks. I walked closer and knelt down on the mud. There was one singular flower on the grave. My master had put it there, I knew it. There, resting on the mud, was a camellia blossom. It is tradition that every time a servant dies a camellia blossom should be placed on the grave. I have always hated that tradition. A camellia blossom was a beautiful flower, always seen but its name never usually remembered. The flower was delicate and underappreciated, when a camellia blossom falls it is silently tragic. Very much like the servants. These flowers were being placed on the graves because of tradition, but also because of other reasons. Some masters did place the flower as a sign of respect, some placed it simply for the tradition to uphold appearances, and some did it spitefully. I was pretty sure it was the latter in this case. I curled my lip in disgust. _

That was the moment I left my innocence behind, I adopted the stony expression that reflected the world I lived in…

"_Kurt, what are you doing?" My father asked. I plucked the flower from the grave and threw it aside. My mother was beautiful, and yes she was underappreciated by our masters. But when she fell it was not a silent tragedy. It was loud, and painful. So many agonising screams. My heart was ripped out and shattered on the dirty floor. Tragic. The word sounded hatefully sarcastic. Instead I put a lily onto the grave. It was beautiful and bright, but also unique and different. It wasn't easily recognisable because it didn't make an effort to fit in. He admired all these qualities about his mother. The lily also symbolised his sadness for her loss. _

"_Remember when you told me that lilies were your favourite, mum?" I asked quietly. Silence. "I listened." I slowly rose to my feet and stepped back. I looked up at my father, and he looked back at me. 'Save something' I found myself thinking. I just want him to say something, anything, to make the pain go away. But he didn't say anything, just took my hand and squeezed it tightly. _

"_You and I against the world, kid." He told me lightly, fighting to control the shake in his voice – but I still heard it. _

And then, of course, things changed. Our master kept us on. But once my dad grew ill, I started slacking off my duties. I wanted to help him, because they wouldn't get him help right away. Once they had noticed my father was deathly ill… they threw us onto the streets. They didn't want another servant dying in the house, but they were content to throw us out.

My father was staying at the small hospital on the outskirts of town.

"_You, boy," A gruff voice said. I looked up, exhausted. It was my sixteenth birthday, not that it mattered. I had been struggling to find work for a long time, but this world wasn't exactly accepting. I squinted through the grimy fog and pushed my brunette hair up and out of my face. The man was told and sharp with piercing eyes, and a cleanly shaven face. "I saw you here a few days ago with a man, where is he now?"_

"_My father?" I winced at how dry my voice sounded. "H-He's ill, I got him in a hospital." _

"_How can __**you **__afford a hospital?" He asked harshly, but with a hint of curiosity. I looked away slightly. _

"_I can't," I mumbled. "But I can't find work either. No-one will take a servant off the streets." I could feel him burning holes in me. _

"'_Servant'?" He questioned. I turned my head back, confused by his question. "Just now, you called yourself a servant. Why're you on the streets?" _

"_I have had many masters, each were cruel. Their sons did not take too kindly to me, they saw servants as the scum of the earth. I was the youngest servant there, so things never usually went well." As I said this I pushed my hair to the side, revealing a nasty cut above my eyebrow. _

"_I doubt you would have that problem at my mansion, we have two sons. One does not live with us anymore and the other insists on being polite to everyone, regardless of his social standing." I saw the man roll his eyes. I couldn't help but feel slightly hopeful. "I dislike training new servants, but if you are experienced and know your place then you can work for us." My eyes widened. _

"_A-Are you serious?" I spluttered in surprise. The man simply nodded once and gestured for me to follow him. _

**0000**

_I had been working for the Anderson family for half a year now and I'd barely made enough money to cover half of the hospital treatment. I walked into the room, ignoring the disgusted glances from the doctors who were forced to take care of my father. I lowered myself into the chair beside his bed, and he smiled. _

"_You seem to like it at the Anderson's mansion, Kurt." He spoke lightly. I smiled and nodded. In all honesty, it was better than any of our last work places – even if I sensed that Mr Anderson was still very strict. I had yet to meet either of the sons, one was not living at the mansion and the other just seemed too busy sometimes. _

"_How are you feeling, dad?" I asked, allowing the concern to show in my voice. He waved a hand weakly and chuckled. _

"_I am quite fine, not to worry." _

"_You know that I worry, I can't lose you," I said – surprisingly calmly. "Anyway… I'll eventually get your treatment paid for, you'll be OK." Dad looked at me and put a hand on my arm. He could tell that I was struggling with this. _

"_You will not lose me, Kurt," He tried to assure me. "Just remember one thing." He said. I looked him in the eyes. He was serious now. "Never settle for less than you deserve, settling means giving up. Promise me." _

"_I…" I started. "I promise…" I said hesitantly. We stayed like that together. It happened in slow motion, each agonising second ripping me to pieces. My world shattered and my thoughts blurred. Doctors and nurses filled the room as I felt the strength in my father's hand vanish. Tears sprang to my eyes for the first time since mother's funeral. _

"I'm so sorry, dad," I mumble to myself frequently when I awake from the ghostly dreams of my father's disappointed expression. "I had to settle… I had no choice."

**Notes: There we go! Please excuse any little mistakes, I just wanted to get this chapter up for you guys. I will be going back through this chapter and editing any little mistakes, it is just that I'd like you all to enjoy the chapter while I triple check for any mistakes. **

**Review please!**


	4. Only Human

"Sir, wake up," I heard a voice call out from the darkness. "Mr Anderson, it is time to wake up." Slowly I opened my eyes, blinking rapidly in order to make out the blurry image beside the bed. There was a young man who was gliding around the room busily. I yawned and stretched as I rose from my bed. "Ah, good, you are awake." I gave him a tired smile.

"Do forgive me," I told him calmly. "I did not mean to sleep in so late."

"You have been working very hard recently," The man, Justin, replied as he smoothed out the suit I would be wearing. I do not know much about the servants that work for my family, aside from Kurt of course, but I do know that Justin always seems to be as positive as possible. He was a kind young man who had a steady amount of patience, which is more than I can say for my own parents. "Therefore you will have to forgive the early awakening. A letter arrived early this morning from your tutor, informing us that your lesson will be earlier than usual." I sighed and ran a hand through my loose curls that I had yet to gel back neatly. "And so I have brought your breakfast here for you to eat. Once you are finished we must get you ready." I nodded and sat back down on my bed, picking the tray off the bedside table and placing it on my knee. I watched as Justin crossed the room in a rehearsed manner, grabbing my books and writing equipment from the cupboard in the corner of the room. I ate my breakfast in silence, ensuring I left at least half of the food on the tray so that Justin would be able to also have something to eat before completing his next task. I've learned a lot over the years, one of those things is that the servants do not always eat or drink as much as they should. So if there's nothing I can do to change things completely, I can at least fulfil little gesture or actions to make their lives just slightly easier.

"Justin," I said, looking over at the young man who was busily arranging my books on the desk by the window. He raised his head and, noticing I had finished eating, approached me. "Please eat." Justin looked at the plate to see some toast and meat left over. He looked as though he was going to pick up the plate and accept my offer, however, he then straightened his back and suit jacket.

"Sir, you know this is not proper." He said stiffly, as though trying hard to maintain his appearance.

"I shall not tell anyone else, what harm can this cause?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"With you, a scolding from your parents. With me, I shall lose my job." He said, almost coldly as though I shouldn't have tried to help. I looked at him softly.

"I will not tell a soul, I swear." For a moment he did not speak, but that was because his stomach spoke for him. A loud rumble sounded through the large room, and Justin flushed in embarrassment and quickly started to stutter through his apologies. I simply chuckled good-heartedly. "Eat." With slight reluctance Justin sighed and nodded, taking the tray from me and sitting down to eat. I smiled and patted his shoulder before moving to get ready.

"Your father, sir, has invited a young lady to the mansion. She will be arriving a week from today." I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, glancing over my shoulder at him before walking into the bathroom to have a quick wash. A young lady? That could only mean that father was pushing me for marriage, once again. But he said that he would allow me to wait a couple of years before I was to be married. Then again, my father never was very fair.

"What about the lady that he spoke highly of previously?" I called out from the bathroom. As I waited I splashed water on my face. "Rachel Berry?"

"It seems that your father could not reach an agreement regarding the dowry." I sighed and looked at myself in the mirror. I did not look tired, because I wasn't; I was sitting in the lap of luxury. And I hate it to the core. This is wrong because while I have never worked a day in my life, others have lost their lives… or themselves, while attempting to survive. No-one really lived anymore, everyone survived but never do they live. Ask me what my intention is in life; the answer will simply be to exist. My only passion is music, but in this age music is hugely insignificant – a lot seems to be insignificant currently.

"Who is the new young lady?" I asked as I ran the gel through my hair, taming the mad curls.

"Miss Tina Cohen-Chang." I recognised the name. She was a nice person. She is a very good friend of mine; we both talk a lot while out at the dances held in town. I walked back into the room and started to change into the suit that was hung up. "Sir," He began. I looked at him. "I wanted to thank you." I raised an eyebrow in confusion, wondering what on earth he was talking about. Slowly Justin rose to his feet, placing the tray down lightly on the bedside. There was a small smile on his face. "For being kind to Kurt, you might not know it but you've really helped him."

"I have?" Honestly I was very surprised. "I simply spoke to him and offered my jacket." Still the smile on Justin's face remained.

"I do not know what you have done… but he doesn't seem quite as sad. Well," He paused to contradict himself. "He was crying and he seemed miserable for a moment. But usually he hides this, pretends that he is fine and denies the fact that he has been crying. But… Yesterday he didn't try to hide it; he seemed to have opened up a little more. He allowed us to be at his side and thanked us. Never before has he done so." I stared at him, surprised by what I had heard. "But I admit to being concerned." I saw his hesitation; it was almost as though he was worried about speaking out of place. I motioned for him to continue. "It is not proper for a servant to be treated in the way you treat us."

"What do you mean?" I found myself asking immediately.

"With kindness," That startled me. "If the master were to find out about this… We'd be gone. Servants like us, or in general, are easily replaceable." I closed my eyes briefly, processing this information.

"How is it fair that the majority must suffer to satisfy the minority? Why can it not be that the most fortunate may help the least fortunate?" I found myself wondering aloud. Suddenly a knock sounded at the door, and so my eyes opened just as the door was opened. "Mr Schuester." I greeted half-heartedly. The man smiled and nodded politely to Justin as he left the room.

"How are you doing, Blaine?" I simply smiled at him, and he returned it. Mr Schue seems to think the very same way that I do, although he is much more subtle about it than I. He would not make it clear when conversing with my father, but he would make it very clear when conversing with me. "Seems as though you are still taking care of your servants."

"Yes, sir, of course." I watched as my teacher moved to the table by the window, checking over the latest assignment I had completed for him. I followed him and dropped down heavily onto one of the chairs. My mind was focussed on Kurt, and the things he had told me. I wanted nothing more than to comfort him, or at the very least help him with his duties so that he could rest. But, of course, this would only get him in trouble. I heard Mr Schue trying to get my attention about some sort of equation that he wanted me to solve, but my mind was much too distracted. "Mr Schue, can I not simply play the violin today? My mind is far too distracted for such things." I said, gesturing to the papers and books. Mr Schue raised an eyebrow and seemed concerned.

"What is on your mind, Blaine?" He asked from where he was standing. I looked up at him and sighed, tugging at my collar slightly.

"It is this servant of whom I was not aware of until recently," I began, knowing Mr Schuester would not judge me or speak with my parents about this. "He seemed different from the others. Sadder, more distant. I spoke with him and learned about his upbringing, although, not in very much detail. He has faced more hardships than I know I could bear. I want to help him, but I do not know how." He looked at me sympathetically and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I know you want to help, but there's nothing that can be done. It's a cruel world; all we can do is try to make the best of it." I slumped in defeat. There must be something that I could do, something more than slipping them food and allowing them to take quick breaks in my room – pretending that I needed them to help me with something.

**0000**

My lesson with Mr Schue had just finished, and so I was ready to search through the corridors in search of Kurt. So imagine my surprise when I opened the door and found myself face to face with my, rather displeased looking, father. He frowned and walked more into the room, forcing me to walk backwards to avoid getting in his way. I wasn't sure what the cause of his anger could be this time, I just hoped it had nothing to do with the arranged marriage.

"Blaine, I want to know why you were with Hummel yesterday when I walked in on the two of you." I was slightly startled. Was it now a problem to be in the same room as a servant? Judging by the glare currently burning holes in me, I'd have to say yes.

"I had only just met him, so I was getting to know him a little." His glare intensified and I immediately regretted saying anything at all. I gulped and kept my eyes trained on him. I should be careful with what I say in front of him.

"That boy is a servant, and is beneath us. You do not need to get to know him, he does not matter." I felt myself get angry at that. Despite the fact that I had just told myself to think before speaking, I blurted out what I was thinking before I could stop myself. I balled up my fists angrily.

"That _boy _is called Kurt Hummel, and he's ten times stronger than you think he is. What right do you have to determine the value of a person?" I felt a tight grip on my upper right arm and winced. I really did put my foot in my mouth. I hissed and backed up as he followed me, his grip never letting up.

"What is your deal with that kid?" He snarled. "Has he got something over you or something?" I shook my head, not trusting my voice in case I said anything to incriminate Kurt. "No son of mine will form a _friendship _with someone as lowly as that, do I make myself clear?" I didn't answer right away, how could I? What he was demanding was ridiculous, not to mention unnecessary. I would have said 'no', but two things stopped me. If I didn't agree then I didn't know where his temper would lead him, nor did I know how much of that temper would be directed at Kurt. He tightened his grip and I managed to squirm away slightly.

"I understand." His glare did not fade, but I didn't care because he left the room regardless. I sighed and smirked slightly to myself. You've got to love ambiguous answers. I had no intention of ignoring Kurt; I never actually told my father that I would do so. All I said was that I understood what he was saying. I rushed back to the table and searched through my papers. I needed Kurt to be constantly reminded that he could still harness some hope in this dreary world. Once I found what I needed I rushed downstairs.

"Sir?" I heard a familiar voice. I felt a smile begin to rise on my face. Grabbing the man's hand I wrenched open a door and closed it once we were inside. "Sir, please, I have work to do." I could hear the desperation in his voice and it made me feel slightly guilty.

"I'm sorry, Kurt, I just wanted to give you something." I saw him frown in confusion as I handed over the paper. "Whenever you're feeling down and I can't be there… Just read this." Kurt was just about to read the words, but I didn't want him to read it – not just yet. "Ah, wait!" He looked startled and I felt myself blush for some reason. "You said you were busy… Can I help you out?" He looked doubtful.

"Sir, I do appreciate everything you have been doing, but I can't risk losing my job." And with that he moved towards the corner of the room, opening a cabinet and taking out the cleaning equipment. I watched him sadly. After everything he has already told me I don't blame him for his doubt. He no longer has any family members, and though my father is no saint he has still allowed Kurt to remain working for us. I followed him and picked up one of the mops while Kurt started polishing the furniture. Moments went by in silence before I heard a soft, angelic voice from the other side of the room. I looked up and noticed that Kurt was singing quietly to himself. It seemed as though he had assumed that I'd left the room because I was not in his line of sight. He sung a familiar song, a popular song that many new. I knew it to be full of pain.

I noticed the raw emotion in his voice and slowly lowered myself to sit behind one of the couches, resting my back against it – hidden from Kurt. I peeked around the corner and watched him patiently. His voice was beautiful and flattering. It seemed as though his true self shined through when he expressed himself through song, I vaguely wondered if this was something he did frequently. The emotion in his voice was so overwhelming. My vision blurred as I felt Kurt's pain radiating off of him in waves. It seemed as though he was struggling to continue. Without thinking, because I seem to be doing that a lot lately, I turned back so that I was facing the opposite wall – still hidden from Kurt but now no longer able to see him. I looked back and rose to my feet, noticing Kurt's flustered expression as he realised that he was not alone in this room. Slowly I walked closer to him, my feet tapping lightly on the smooth floor as I continued to sing.

I came to a stop in front of him and watched as he rose to his feet also. I looked him in the eyes, showing him no judgement or criticism.

I reached for him but he turned away, it wasn't quite rejection. It was more like concern, because I was his master yet here I was singing with him as though our statuses meant nothing. He looked troubled as he rubbed his forehead in thought.

I could see the frustration and confusion building up on his face. He was indirectly letting out his feelings regarding being a servant. I bet it was hard for him to accept that I wanted to help him, considering he has been taught that society works a certain way. It must be frustrating that I'm contradicting things by breaking away from what is expected, that I'm trying to reach out to someone of whom I shouldn't be interested in. I had my questions too, I wanted to know more about the world he lives in, and so with that I belted the next lines.

Kurt still looked upset. His beautiful eyes… Wait… beautiful? Anyway… His eyes were sparkling with stubborn tears. He seemed to back up slightly, and the power he put behind the words seemed to be directed at me. He had questions he had been wanting to ask but didn't know how to say. The song mentioned a flower. The tradition of placing a flower on the grave of a departed servant. Could that be what he is referring to? It was common to replace a servant after death; it was as though that person did not matter. I knew that most masters left a flower because it was expected, not because it was sincere. Kurt, even if he was older than me, was still only very young. And without his parents he must feel so entirely alone in this world. With no comfort and only the painful embrace of reality, where was he to find happiness? And with no chance of change, how was he to know if he would have a happy future? I sang the next lines because they reflected my frustration with this society, I have no idea how this all started. I noticed the look of defeat in Kurt's eyes as I stepped closer. It was almost as though the anger and frustration that fuelled his sadness had left. Now sadness was the only emotion I could see staring me in the face. His voice was light and gentle as he shrugged his shoulders once.

I watched him sadly. His eyes never left mine and I saw the ghostly tear that glided down his flushed cheeks. The words spoke the truth that everyone else seemed to have forgotten. We were all human, so what right do we have to determine the importance of one over another? I licked my lips and opened my mouth. I reached a hand up to brush his tear away just as one of my own tears left my eye. But he was still unsure of me, so he didn't wipe my tear away as he continued to sing the same line with me again another four times. Though I still saw his hand twitch as though he was going to wipe my tears. I dropped my hand and looked at him. I saw the tears starting to make his body shake. He was going to breakdown, and I was going to catch him. And that's what I did. I held Kurt as he gasped softly and shook in my arms, his voice was caught and he couldn't sing anymore – a silenced bird whose wings had grown tired. I rubbed his back and continued to sing softly.

We stayed that way and that was when I realised I cared deeply for Kurt. Even when crying he was still amazing and graceful. I would protect him, no… I would help him. Because protection is not what he needs. He needs care and support, because he is strong enough that he feels he can protect himself.

Moments later when Kurt had calmed down, his eyes still red and puffy, I knelt beside him. I'd finished off the work that needed to be done in the room, and Kurt had watched from his place on the couch. I smiled up at him and took the paper out of Kurt's pocket and put it in his hands. He just watched me, his emotions and thoughts hidden entirely by the mask that he was wearing. One day soon I would take that mask away so that he didn't have to shield his feelings. One day soon… He needed time, we'd have to take baby steps for now. Slowly he lowered his eyes and opened his mouth to recite what I had given him.

He raised his head to look at me for a moment and I allowed a small smile to form on my face. There was recognition in his eyes. The poem told of a flower that was able to harness it's beauty and continue to blossom despite the forces preventing it. I put a hand on his arm.

"One thing though," I started. "While the poem says that no-one cares, I want you to know that I do care." Finally I saw his smile, an honest smile that was not hesitant or nervous. I patted his arm and rose to my feet before approaching the door.

"Thank you," I heard him say. "Thank you, Blaine…"

**0000**

**Terribly sorry about the wait everyone, but I hope this chapter makes up for it! **


	5. Irony

**NOTE: Hey, everyone. I'm so sorry for the delay, a lot has been going on. But I bring forth a peace offering. This chapter has two halves – Part 1 will be the main part of the story. Part 2 will be flash backs (I'm not going to say WHAT flash backs, I'll let you read on to find out). Enjoy!**

**0000**

**Part one – Irony. **

The servants were busily preparing for the guests of which they had only just been informed of. Honestly, this mansion only functions because of the servants. God help the privileged and pampered pigs if they ever find themselves needing to graft for a living. Although, it was comforting to know that not everyone in the mansion was so prejudice. Blaine Anderson had been continuingly showing his gratitude towards the servants and, with the help of Kurt, the other servants were able to put their pride aside and accept the help offered to them.

The dry heat in the kitchen was suffocating, and the chaos threatened to knock Kurt down repeatedly. It certainly was difficult being the youngest servant, especially on the busy days. Little was known to Kurt about the family visiting, all he knew was that the other servants greatly despised the son – this was most likely the reason why they never remembered his name. Maria whizzed past him, too busy to apologise. Strands of her hair either stuck out comically or remained stuck to her head, the sweat working almost like a strong adhesive. Kurt marvelled, even now, at how much food was needed when guests came. He'd be lucky if he ate this amount in a month, let alone a day.

"Kurt!" Kurt raised his head. He was just about to grab the clothes and take them up to Mr Anderson. "Forget those for now, I need you." Justin said as he grabbed Kurt's wrist and dragged him up the stairs. Kurt stumbled all the way up, trying to get his footing right and keep up with Justin at the same time. "I must prepare the carriage to go and collect our _guests._" He spat the word out as though it was a bad taste in his mouth.

"Is it not the job of _their_ servants to transport them here?" Kurt asked as they came to a screeching halt beside the carriage out front. Justin nodded and made sure the horses were firmly attached to the reins.

"Indeed, but it seems that our master wishes to make a good impression," He said, not looking back at Kurt as he spoke. Justin laughed bitterly. "Though I see no reason considering they have met countless times. I have been ordered to go and pick our guests up and transport them back here." Kurt sighed and opened the door to the carriage. It was beautiful, but also rather unnecessary. Was there really any point in the lining of the chairs being gold? Brushing this thought aside he raised his hands and, noticing they were coated in grime, rubbed them on his shirt before carefully pulling back the curtains. The silk material was gentle on his aching hands as he attached them elegantly to one side. A loud knock rocked the carriage as Kurt took this as his signal to vacate.

"That was all the help you needed?" Kurt asked. Justin nodded and looked at the carriage, seemingly baffled.

"Apparently so. I do apologise, Kurt. I was sure this carriage needed a clean-up before departure." Kurt glanced back at the immaculate carriage in wonder and then glanced back at the mansion. By an interesting coincidence Kurt noticed Blaine peeking out of the curtains up on one of the higher floors. Said man gave Kurt a cheeky smile before ducking back into the room. "Kurt?"

"Oh, ah, sorry…" Kurt spoke as he turned back to face Justin, who was watching him questionably. "Say, Justin, tell me about the guests." Justin's face darkened as he leaned against the carriage.

"We do not usually see the mother. The father is a man of pride, but in no means cruel. The son is the person we have a problem with. We do not care for the business that gives them wealth, nor do we care for the brute of a child that thinks himself so important. He is rude and views people like us as the scum of the earth." Kurt tilted his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Most people think that, do they not?" He questioned.

"True, but not like this. You've heard stories, right? Of aristocratic children that physically attack servants and the parents that will not believe a word their servants say?" Kurt felt himself go cold and slightly pale, reminded of his previous masters.

"Yes, I have heard." He said softly. His abrupt change in demeanour had gone unnoticed by Justin, who continued speaking.

"Then there you go." He said simply and pushed off the carriage.

"Has this person harmed any of you before?" Kurt asked hesitantly. Justin shook his head.

"No. He has attempted to, but Master Blaine has always been there to protect us." He explained with a fond smile that Kurt had not seen much of. Kurt felt himself smiling also. "But be warned, the young master cannot always be around us. Our guests may be granted permission to be served by one servant in particular. It was suggested the last time they arrived here. Mr Anderson is quick to please his guests, so he agreed. It is in this case that Master Blaine will not always be around." Kurt felt himself beginning to worry now. If this guest was anything last his previous masters then he definitely needed to worry. It is forbidden, of course, for a servant to restrain or harm anyone of a higher social position than themselves. Before he knew it, Justin had already taken off in the carriage and had disappeared from sight.

"Good morning," The voice from behind startled the young servant as he whirled around. However he let out a breath when he realised the identity of the voice. "Apologises, I didn't mean to scare you. How do you like the carriage?" That cheeky smile was back and Kurt had to resist the erg to roll his eyes before Blaine.

Kurt recited a poem with perfect ease, as though he had been repeating it in a rehearsed manner since he had first heard it. Blaine had heard it too, of course. There were many different variations of this poem, and multiple interpretations. So many so that it was impossible to draw out one specific meaning and disregard others. Blaine raised an eyebrow.

Blaine had recognised the poem. "That poem is the most ironic thing I have ever heard of. What are you implying by bringing it up?"

"That we're ironic." Kurt said simply, offering no explanation.

"We are?" He asked and received a nod. "How so?" Kurt took a deep breath.

"I am a servant, and you my master. It is my job by nature to serve you, yet you insist on taking over aspects of my job. Such as: Fixing up the carriage, and cleaning the floors." Blaine was listening intently. "This happened willingly and together. But if this continues, we will be each other's downfall. I will lose my job, and you shall lose society's respect."

"So we're the 'two dead boys'?" Blaine asked hesitantly. Kurt just nodded. "Kurt, come on, there's no issue with me helping out."

"I appreciate all you are doing," Kurt assured him with a smile. "But with what I'm hearing about your guests, they will not appreciate it." But Blaine was not listening to his concerns right now, not since he had seen Kurt's smile.

"I like your smile; maybe you should wear it more often?" Blaine spoke before thinking. Instantly a blush crept to Kurt's cheeks as he took an awkward step back. "Oh, I'm sorry; I just meant that it's nice to see you happy." He rambled. Kurt, oddly, liked to see Blaine this way. He felt like social classes didn't matter when he was around him. But of course they did matter, and if he wanted to keep seeing Blaine then he was going to have to try and not get fired.

"I should go and help the others. We have a lot of work to do." He said simply as he passed Blaine.

"Remember - 'the rose that grew from concrete'." Blaine called out, causing Kurt to give a soft laugh as he entered the mansion.

The rest of the day continued smoothly for Blaine who, much to his irritation, was made to wear an incredibly stiff and drab looking suit in honour of the guests coming to visit. He had met them countless times before, of course, but that did not mean that he liked them. He didn't understand much of what was discussed over the dinner table between the guests and his own parents, but then again he never really cared to begin with. Hearing the patter of hooves against gravel he glanced out of the window to see the carriage pull up outside his home. Recollecting himself he took a deep breath to gather his patience before exiting the room. The servants were gathered by the front door, ready to greet the guest. Blaine's father stood before them.

"Now listen, as I'm sure some of you know, last time our guest visited it was suggested that upon their next arrival they are welcome to select one of you to serve them specifically." He explained, causing Blaine to roll his eyes. "Whoever they choose has no excuse for not serving them accordingly, do I make myself clear?" Each servant nodded and Mr Anderson grunted his approval. Just then the doors opened and a man and his son stepped into the building. The man had a moustache and beard which was an aging mixture of white and grey that matched his hair. The son stepped in after him. He had short brown hair and seemed to be in a fair build, it would not be too far-fetched to assume he would have excelled in certain outdoor sports. Blaine noticed the way Kurt had stiffened and, if possible, had paled considerably.

"Ah, Mr Karofsky," Welcomed Blaine's father as he shook the hand his guest. Paul smiled and patted his host's hand in a friendly manner. "And Dave." The son grinned and nodded his head in acknowledgement. "As suggested last time, any servant is yours." Paul barely even needed to look over the servants before he picked Mrs Amaro, who was attempting to hide her irritation. A false and rehearsed smile crossed her face as she nodded and followed him off. Blaine walked down the stairs slowly and in silence. Kurt looked so deathly afraid right now that it was heart breaking to watch. Dave turned his head to the servants, his eyes landing on Kurt.

"I'll take this kid." The smirk on Dave's face had been noticed by, not only Kurt, but Blaine and Maria. Mr Anderson nodded and moved towards Kurt, who still had not shown any signs of movement.

"What are you waiting for, boy?" Questioned Mr Anderson harshly. When Kurt still did not move, he was pushed. Unfortunately this meant he stumbled into Dave, who caught him by the upper arms. "Oh, Dave, I do apologise." Said Mr Anderson.

"Not to worry, sir," Dave said with an almost sadistic smile. "I'll be off now." Blaine noticed how tightly Dave was holding onto Kurt, his knuckles were turning rapidly white and veins were as clear as day on the back of his hand.

"Excuse me," Blaine said, stepping into their path. "Don't you think you're holding him a bit too tight? You're hurting him." He saw Dave raise a mocking eyebrow, a hint of confusion and surprise becoming evident.

"Blaine." His father scolded. But Blaine wasn't letting up; he kept an intense but polite gaze on the boy before him. Kurt kept quiet but he was trying to catch Blaine's eye, so he could throw him a warning look.

"I'm sorry," Dave started, his voice light and sarcastic. He turned his eyes onto Kurt. "Am I hurting you?"

"Of course not, sir." Kurt was a good actor. Had Blaine not known the boy, he would have been fooled. But he saw the evidence of Kurt's lying, because when he had given – which could only have been an attempt at –a reassuring smile, it had not reached his eyes.

"Now then," Dave turned his gaze back to Blaine, whose expression had not changed. "If you will excuse us." The silence was suffocating, it was so thick that you could cut the silence with a knife. After what felt like forever Blaine stepped to one side and allowed them to pass him. But he wasn't about to give up there, certainly not. There was a connection with Kurt and the Karofsky family, and he was determined to figure it out.

**0000**

**Part two – I'm the hero of this story. **

_Rain. I've always hated it. Well, maybe 'always' is a bit of an exaggeration. I didn't mind it for a while, but after my mum died I couldn't help but feel pure hatred whenever the world was darkened and damp from the rain. Silly really, you'd think that I'd have a lot more to talk about considering it's my fifteenth birthday. But no, here I am complaining about the rain. Oh well. I'd just been to the hospital you see. Working means that I can pay small instalments in order to keep my dad in the hospital. If I go out of work again then they'll force him out onto the streets with me… Again. _

"_Hummel," I turned my head to see the footman looking at me with a mask of indifference. "The young master wants to see you." I felt my blood run cold. I've had intolerable masters before, ones that left me with an uncomfortable feeling. But Dave Karofsky was different. When he saw me there were so many emotions I didn't recognise. Of course I noticed the anger, the hate, and the disgust. But what was the one look that made him look at me a second longer than he needed to? When I could practically feel his eyes burning holes in my back as I left? Whatever it was, it was different and unsettled me. _

_I nodded to him and took a deep breath before making my way to Karofsky's room. I knocked on the door and heard a gruff voice calling out for me to come in. He knew it was me, he always seemed to know. Never did he think that I might not come to him when he asked, never did he assume another servant would come in my place. I opened the door and stepped into the room, once inside I proceeded to close the door again._

"_About time." The subtle venom in his voice was one thing that made him similar to previous masters. It did not faze me. I simply looked at him, I never had the chance to respond before he was already speaking again. "Clear this mess up." At first I didn't know what he meant. His room was immaculate. Then I noticed what he meant. His bed was untidy, he had a tray of half-eaten food and an unfinished coffee. But most of all, his trousers were coated up to the knees in mud. He had a habit of going for walks and returning coated in mud. He did it on purpose, I'm sure of it. He could just keep to the path, but somehow he ends up walking the muddied fields instead. I walked over to the trousers and picked them up, sighing softly at the mess. It took a lot of effort to get mud out of clothes, my hands were still sore from the last time I had scraped away all the grime. _

"_Not again." I mumbled quietly under my breath. I never assumed that he would hear me, considering I was at the other side of the room and had spoken so quietly. _

"_What was that?" He growled so suddenly that I dropped the fabric onto the white floor, tainting the pure colour. _

_He was by my side in an instant, face red in anger. Way too much anger for it to have been caused by a simple mistake such as this. I quickly picked the trousers up again and draped them over the back of the dark chair where they had rested previously. He was close. I moved back, and he moved forward. I was in the corner, but he was still coming closer._

"_I'm sorry, sir," I exclaimed quickly. "I meant no harm." _

"_It's your job to clear up my mess, got it?" He glared down at me. "You're pathetic, maybe we should just fire you!"_

"_No!" I cried out, making the mistake of putting my hand on his arm. "Please, I need to pay for my dad's hospital bills!" But he had gripped my wrist tightly. I gasped in surprise. This was not the first time that he had harmed me, and I always knew the last time would be when I either get fired, quit, or die. Grim thoughts, don't you think? Well, it's a grim time. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. "Let go of me!" I shrieked, yanking my arm back – releasing myself from his grip. I didn't stop there, I also pushed him back ever so slightly. He stumbled and looked at me in surprise. Well, now I'm in for it. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. He came at me, grabbed my head in his hands and kissed me deeply. Tears burned in my eyes as I felt myself become trapped in the corner, his body blocking any hopes of escaping. My first kiss… _

_He pulled back and looked at me. Now I understood that mysterious emotion in the back of his eyes. Lust. I could only stare. A blurry figure moved in closer, but I pushed it away. Tears were making it impossible to see straight. At least they didn't fall. I refused to let the rain fall, I hate it after all. I briefly saw the hurt cross his face before he took a step back himself._

"_You tell anyone about this and I will kill you." He growled. I just stared at him. What else could I have done? I couldn't leave, I'd never be able to pay the hospital otherwise. _

_I didn't tell my dad about the kiss. The last thing he needed was to worry about me being sexually harassed. Wow, it's a scary thought when I think of it like that. He knew that Karofsky was violent, but he always knew that I could handle it. He may not like it, but there's no other choice. With everything that's happened, things still don't seem easier. I'm fifteen and I'm already an adult. I might as well be, because I stopped being a child after I saw my mum lying on the ground. I hate to cry in front of anyone, but I couldn't help it. My shoulders are too small to carry everything alone. I sat on the side of my dad's bed, doubled over and crying. He was sat up, rubbing my back and kissing my head._

"_It's alright, son, it's going to be alright."_

"_Damn," I mumbled through my shaking sobs. "It's raining again. I hate the rain."_

"_Kurt?" He said softly. "It's not raining…" I slowly lifted my head, my tears gliding silently down my cheeks. _

"_It definitely is…" I said, lifting my head up as though convincing myself that the water on my face was just rain and not tears. Maybe I would have believed it better had I been outside._

**0000**

"_You done yet, homo?" Karofsky asked from the other side of the room. I raised my head at the degrading term of address. How ironic. _

"_Ironic that you're being prejudice against me when you're the same." I pointed out stupidly. Well, I never claimed to be sensible. He glared and showed me his fist as he rose to his feet. _

"_**You **__kissed __**me**__!" He raged. I rolled my eyes. _

"_I'm not going to hold it over you," I said. "But you shouldn't be ashamed of who you are." _

"_I am __**not **__like you!" I blinked and a dull pain formed in the back of my head. Great, my back is against the wall again. "You don't know anything, so you better shut your mouth!" He had a tight grip on my arms. It was getting tighter, and tighter. Ow… _

**0000**

"_I didn't do anything!" I exclaimed to Mr Karofsky, who frown__ed at me with his arms crossed. The other servants were behind me but did not speak up. I didn't blame them. If they had spoken then they would be on the streets too. "He attacked me and I pushed him back, sir. Please, I need this job, my dad will die if I can't bring in some money." There was no sympathy. He didn't even know my name, a lot of the time he questioned me on who I was when he saw me around. He never could remember his servants, he could never recognise them._

"_My son has a bump on the back of his head that you caused." He said simply, as though his mind was already made up. _

"_It was self-defence, sir!" I was panicking now. I couldn't lose my job. Losing my job would mean losing my dad. I didn't care what I had to suffer through if it meant that my dad would remain alive. _

"_I am sorry, Hummel, but we have already hired your replacement." _

**0000**

The memories from the past were bitter as the events played in my head. Karofsky was a guest now at the Anderson home. If I want to keep my job here, then I have to make sure that Karofsky doesn't inform Mr Anderson of our past. I have no choice, I need to stay in his good graces – if that was even remotely possible. I felt like I had back then, back two years ago. A scared kid who wasn't treated like a kid. The grip on my right upper arm was getting tighter, harsher.

I'll be alright. I can do this. I know that I'm stronger than him, maybe not physically but certainly in every other aspect. He would not last a day in my position. I have to remember that. I can't let him dehumanise me any further.

"Wait!" I turned my head as Karofsky came to a stop beside me. Blaine was running up to us. He was panting slightly when he caught up to us. "Dave," He started. "Look, you know me and you know I don't appreciate you treating anyone harshly."

"Anderson," He replied with an amused tone. This would not end well. I don't know if I could keep silent if he started to bad mouth, or hurt Blaine in front of me. "I don't understand your fascination with scum like this." He jerked my arm slightly when he said that. I saw Blaine give me a soft look.

"Could you at least release him and let him walk with you?" He asked. "It isn't like he is going to run off if you let go." I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Dave, who frowned slightly but obliged. "Do you mind if I speak to him before you go? Privately?" Silence hung in the air once again. I was surprised when Dave moved and waited at the other end of the corridor. "Are you alright?" He asked me. I couldn't help but give a gentle smile.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you, Blaine." I saw him smile in return. Though his smile didn't last long.

"Do you have a past with him?" I could practically hear the uncertainty in his voice. I didn't want to lie to him, I felt like I couldn't. I could trust that he wouldn't say anything to get me fired. But still, that didn't stop me from hesitating before I replied.

"He's my previous master, and was very aggressive. I had pushed him away from me once and he banged his head and blamed me. That was how I ended up on the streets." I had whispered all of this, just in case someone had heard me. His expression turned to horror and… was that concern?

"I'll get him away from you, Kurt, I'll figure out a way for you to not have to deal with him." He was rambling and talking fast. I love it when he does this. Wait… love it? That thought came out of nowhere… Anyway, I simply smiled.

"Thank you, Blaine, but I'll be fine." Before he had a chance to reply, I follow after Karofsky. I appreciate Blaine's concern, I really do, but this is my hill to climb alone. It has been a hill that I have been climbing for a long time.


	6. Courage is--

Kurt took a deep breath, standing outside the door to the guest room. He was aware of Karofsky looming over him from behind. He could feel the hatred mixed with a burning lust radiate off of him, strangling and taunting him. He hated this situation; he was convinced that Karofsky was Kurt's own weakness personified. He could do nothing to Karofsky, could not stop him, and could not say anything in his own defence. Sad really… The world makes a decision on his life before he even exists. The world sees his family, or lack of it, and immediately judges based on wealth. Had circumstances been different he could have been an influential person who may have cured many illnesses. The laws in place, however, had prevented this from being possible – because there was no equality. Because of his low status he could never afford school, and so the only job possible was to be a servant. Humans made the laws that caused suffering among their own kind, and it is humans that can help ease that suffering and allow their fellow humans a chance at life. Life may not always be kind, but it is made easier by the way some humans treat each other.

"Hurry up!" Snarled Karofsky, snapping Kurt out of his thoughts. The doors opened and Karofsky stepped into the room. Kurt gathered his composure and tilted his head up high. He forced himself into the room and reluctantly closed the door. The silence was back and even more suffocating than he had remembered. Kurt had continued to be Karofsky's servant for slightly less than a year after the kiss incident, and it had certainly been hard. After being thrown out several months before his sixteenth birthday Kurt had kept his father in the hospital, promising to pay the instalments as soon as his master paid him. Of course the doctors and nurses did not know that the payments were on hold until he could find work again.

"How have you been, lady?" Karofsky taunted, leaning against one of the walls. Kurt, who had been facing the door, now turned to Karofsky with a mask of indifference. "How's your dad?" The question was odd. Though it was painful and brought up tragic memories for Kurt, Karofsky seemed to be asking a genuine question – yet the sincerity could not be seen because of the tone he had chosen. The hurt and pain washed over Kurt, slapping the mask away and allowing the emotions to become visible.

"He's dead." He said flatly, proud of himself for not allowing his voice to shake. His glassy eyes shined with unshed tears. He regarded Karofsky, who looked stunned. "They allowed him to stay in the hospital but refused to treat him until I could pay them. I was fired by your father so I could not pay for several months." Once again the silence had returned. Kurt was wordlessly reconstructing his mask defiantly as Karofsky simply stared. For a moment there seemed to be pity in his eyes.

"Oh, man," He said quietly. "I'm sorry…" The only problem was that Karofsky was across the room and had spoken in a whisper. His lips were moving but Kurt could register no sound.

"Pardon?" He asked. Karofsky, who had almost let slip his show of remorse, quickly restored his own mask. The cruel smirk struck so many angry and miserable emotions within Kurt, who could only stand still and do nothing. His father was everything to him, especially after his mother died. He thought back to all the years he'd been a servant. With the exception of Karofsky's other servants, Kurt had made friends with every servant he had ever worked with. But because of the cruelty of his masters, he was forced to leave them. When hired by Mr Anderson he had wondered how long it would take before he was on the streets again… Maybe this would be coming recently considering that Karofsky was now here.

When given no answer, Kurt simply walked to the other side of the room and pulled back the curtains a little more. He attached them to the sides of the frame, allowing the light to flow into the room. He heard movement behind him, and without turning he knew that Karofsky had pushed off the wall and moved to stand behind him.

"Have you told anyone about what you did?" He asked darkly. Kurt closed his eyes in an attempt to fight off the demons of his mind that wanted nothing more than to force him to remember the incident. After a slow and deep breath he turned to him.

"I told no-one that you kissed me and proceeded to get me fired out of fear." He said simply. Karofsky's face turned red, although more from the memory of the kiss than anything else.

"You've gotten brave," He said darkly, his eyes locked on the boy before him. "You're daring to talk to me in such a way?" Kurt squared his shoulders.

"It is the only way you will understand." And with that Karofsky put his hands on Kurt's chest and shoved him back. Kurt tumbled onto the window seat behind him. Before he was allowed to get over the initial shock, Karofsky seized him by his shirt and slammed his back against the wall. He was held firmly in place as his eyes scrunched up in pain.

"Now," Karofsky started mockingly. He tightened his grip, his fists heavy against Kurt's chest. "Where's that bravery now?" He said nothing, he kept his mouth shut. "Well?" He was pulled from the wall and slammed into it again, a gasp escaping his lips involuntarily. The air rushed out of his lungs as he fought to gain it back. Karofsky sneered in sadistic pleasure at this.

_I can't speak. I can't breathe. I can't do anything other than fight without words or violence. Stay silent, play the victim in pain. Karofsky likes it when I fight back, but I suffer less physical pain if I keep my mouth shut. My back hits the wall again._

His back hits the wall again, the pain is familiar.

_I should have listened to myself. I shoved Karofsky away and now he has hit his head. I'm sure to be fired. Bravery isn't about violence or harsh words; it's about facing both those things without needing to use them. I hope to realise this in the future._

Kurt had learned from his mistakes. He wouldn't battle his way through this with violence, not when there was something to lose. He'd stay strong; he'd show him that he could not be broken. And so he endured, because he had too. Thankfully, Karofsky had grown bored at Kurt's lack of response. After being released Kurt waited in the room should his temporary master need anything. However the time he spent around Karofsky continued to get worse. He felt his courage slipping away as Karofsky's snide comments or actions seemed to amplify in Kurt's mind. He would invite Kurt to sit down and then ask him questions, questions he knew would provoke a reaction.

"You never went to school or had a teacher, did you?" The question felt ten times worse coming from him. He hated this kind of harassment – the kind that didn't seem like it to anyone else. It was the kind that seemed like casual conversation yet was coated in a hidden meaning. Karofsky was questioning his intelligence.

"I never went to school," He confirmed. "But my mother taught me what I needed to know." The answer was stiff.

"You think she'd be happy with how her precious little boy's life turned out?" It was situations like this where Kurt's confidence and bravery began to tarnish. His own fears spoken by someone else seemed like confirmation of a question he did not want answered. He had felt like his parents may be disappointed, so to hear this was hard. How could he answer? He had settled for less than he deserved in life because he had no choice. Or was this exactly what he deserved? Now he could not be sure. He'd lost control of his mind, and now he was unnerved.

"_I can do this. What is the matter with me? Snap out of it!" _He pleaded in his own mind.

"I mean, who would want someone as weak as you?" Karofsky pointed out with a casual wave of the hand. Kurt turned his eyes to him. They were facing each other, but were so close that their knees were almost touching. Karofsky chuckled and Kurt jumped to his feet – Karofsky following.

"I am not weak." He said firmly, feigning confidence. Karofsky stepped closer with raised eyebrows. He jabbed a finger on Kurt's chest, making the smaller boy freeze. Slowly the finger travelled down his torso, jabbing painfully. Kurt's eyes were wide, the rims of his eyes slowly turning red as though he was going to cry. He felt violated. He didn't want to be touched and Karofsky knew that. There were no boundaries. If this man enjoyed hurting him but also felt lust for him, then there was no telling how far he would go. Kurt remembered how Karofsky could do anything to him and no-one would care or believe him because he is a servant. Suddenly Karofsky seized the smaller man's shirt as his smirk grew.

"Yes you are," He said gravely. "Try and stop me." But he couldn't, and both of them knew that. After a moment Kurt was roughly released. "Get out of my sight, you're dismissed until tomorrow." Kurt shakily left the room, pausing outside of the room with his back against the wall.

Blaine knew something was wrong the second he saw Kurt. Kurt had a habit of tilting his head up whenever something brought him down, it was his way of convincing himself that he'd be fine. But now Blaine observed how Kurt's head was tilted down and his eyes were closed. As he got closer he noticed Kurt's hands were shaking as they lay flat against the wall behind him. Slowly he put a gentle and steady hand on Kurt's shoulder, which startled the boy. Kurt flinched violently and moved away, fearing that Karofsky's father had remembered him and come to find him. But upon seeing Blaine he relaxed.

"Kurt?" Blaine spoke slowly. "You look shaken. Did he hurt you?" Kurt's eyes were looking anywhere but him, and Blaine noticed this was for a reason.

"Don't," Blaine said firmly, catching Kurt's attention. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" Kurt asked hesitantly.

"You're trying to hide your emotions. You're going to insist you're fine and then walk away feeling awful on the inside." Blaine wanted nothing more than to kick Karofsky out of his home, and then comfort Kurt. It was ridiculous to let someone be so dehumanised just because of something out of their hands. Kurt just squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away. "Kurt, are you crying?" It shouldn't be a big deal that he was crying, he had cried in front of Blaine before. But it was hard, because the shame crushed him and Blaine's question had been the final blow. Once Blaine saw Kurt's shoulders shake he stepped forward and led him upstairs. Blaine opened the door to his own room and led Kurt inside, shutting the door behind them. He sat Kurt down. "Tell me what happened." Kurt did so, although it was hesitant and he left out the details regarding Karofsky's lust for him.

"I'm so weak," He spat. "I couldn't handle it."

"You're not weak, Kurt," Blaine said instantly as he knelt down in front of Kurt – who was slowly shrinking back into the chair he was sitting in. "It's normal to cry after something like this. Kurt, you've been strong for a long time – I've told you this before. You've always had courage." But Kurt just shook his head. Blaine looked at him and knew exactly how to communicate this message to him. Song. Kurt closed his eyes tightly against the tears, but Blaine knew he was listening because his quiet sobs had subsided. Slowly Kurt's eyes opened and shined with tears both old and new. He knew Kurt was in pain by the way he shuffled in his chair. Blaine took his hands but Kurt pulled them back slightly, his mind on what had happened with Karofsky. Blaine was slightly hurt by the action but he suspected that Kurt was still simply shaken. Kurt looked down and started wiping his eyes silently. He had wiped his eyes and face and looked as though he was going to protest to the lyrics of the song, but Blaine shook his head. Blaine gently and hesitantly took Kurt's hands and helped him stand up. Kurt watched him curiously as Blaine locked eyes with him. Kurt smiled softly as he listened to him. But a thought seemed to cross his mind and the smile slowly fell. He broke away from Blaine and turned towards the window and looked out. From behind him he could tell Blaine was singing in his direction still.

Kurt turned to face him again, the words speaking to him in a way that he hadn't expected. Blaine walked up to him. Blaine held out his hands and Kurt smiled as he held them. Kurt felt himself blush at that last line for some reason, but he didn't let go of Blaine's hands.

"You need to stop focussing on how others view you and the things you could have done but didn't," Blaine said calmly. "Focus on what you have done. You became independent way too early but still managed to survive. Everything you struggled through was for your dad, even if he isn't here anymore. You're strong because you make it through every day and still manage to carry a positive energy somehow. I mean, I can't help but feel happy when I'm around you." The smile was contagious. A new silence flooded the room, but it wasn't unwelcomed or unwanted. It was nice, it was peaceful. Blaine felt drawn to Kurt, and with this he leaned close and rested his lips against Kurt's. It was amazing. A love he had never felt before now filled his entire being as he felt Kurt kiss back. But then it ended. He stared at Kurt, who stared back. And then Kurt pulled away.

"I-I should go," He stuttered. "But thank you for the song, it meant more than you know." A flustered Kurt rushed to the door and out before he could be stopped. It was late now so only the servants would see him. He all but jumped down the steps leading to the basement as he entered the kitchen. He bumped into Mrs Amaro, quite literally. She must be done serving Mr Karofsky for the day.

"Kurt, honey?" She asked, blinking up at him. Kurt just hugged her tightly without thinking. He just needed someone who could fill a parental role for him, just for a moment. He was so lost and confused. He was scared but oddly happy by the kiss. In all of his years, all of the struggles and emotions, he had never experienced this. "It's going to be fine, love, I'm right here." She tenderly kissed his forehead. He pulled back after a while and admitted to her only what had happened with Karofsky – once again he left out the details surrounding the kiss. Mrs Amaro huffed angrily.

"That brat," She hissed. "Come on, dear, let me look at you." She took Kurt into the next room and got him to remove his shirt. She growled when she saw the bruises that painted his pale skin. She returned later with some ice. "Go lie down on your stomach and leave that on your back." He nodded and did so.

"Wait," He called before she left. "I know it is a lot to ask… But could you stay by my side, just for a moment?" Mrs Amaro gave him a warm smile as she sat by his bed side, gently stroking his hair in a motherly way.

"It is not a lot to ask. You're like the son I've always wanted," She cooed. "As long as I live and breathe you will always have someone to come back to after a long day." Kurt felt the smile begin to grow on his face as he closed his eyes.

"_I know it's been a long day, sweetie, but now you can sleep. I'll be right beside you." The voice was musical. A smooth hand stroked his hair as his eyes slid closed. Elizabeth Hummel sat by his side and fell asleep beside her little boy. _

Falling to sleep was something he had always dreaded as it meant the demons of his mind could torment him with nightmares. But this situation was so familiar. Falling to sleep this way made him feel like he had as a child, back before he had suffered the trauma of staring at his mother's lifeless body. He felt a warm glow in his chest that fought off his demons as he slept.

**For anyone curious as to why the lyrics and quotes are no longer in this story, it is because I have re-read the terms of service and recognised that distributing chapters with this content is not allowed. **


	7. Scream

Yesterday actually happened. I don't know how, exactly, but it definitely happened. Just being there with Kurt, in that moment, it just felt so right. I can't imagine what must be running through his head right now, mainly because I'm not even sure what this now means. I've known for a while now that I'm gay, but with this day and age it isn't likely that I will be treated the same. This won't just be bad for me; this will affect my family too. Don't get me wrong, I'm proud. I'm not ashamed of who I am. I just… I don't know. Just as life is difficult for Kurt being a servant, life is still difficult for people like me. No this isn't one of those 'rich people problems' or anything like that, it's about the importance of image – as fickle as it sounds. I have to play the role of the good little straight son who marries well to maintain financial security. I sigh and lean against the window, looking out at the morning sun as it rises – painting the sky a beautiful watery orange.

"Blaine," A voice sounds from behind me. I have to admit that I'm startled, because no-one knocked on the door. Turning I noticed the person to be my father. The door was now closed, and he did not look happy. "You have been acting different lately." He pointed out. I simply remained silent and allowed him to speak. He let the silence sit in the air like an unattended child before stepping forward. "You have been speaking out of turn before our guests, and even making friends with that servant boy."

"I fail to see the problem." I said boldly before I could stop myself. He raised an eyebrow. "The life of a servant is dehumanising and cruel. By befriending him I am helping him, I'm doing the right thing."

"You are being childish and naive." My father retorted with a short laugh. My mouth made a fine line. "Kindness is a virtue that the world lacks; it is more of a liability than an asset."

"You're wrong. Kindness can change the minds of many." I saw the corner of his lip turn up in amusement. It made my blood boil beneath my polite, yet defiant, mask.

"Is that what I'm paying Schuester to teach you?" He asked mockingly. "Kids get fed that old saying too often. The world is not an accepting place, and the sooner you realise that the better." I glared at him.

"I know this world is not an accepting place." I retorted. It seemed as though my father could sense the unspoken accusation in my tone, because he tilted his head.

"Are you implying that I am not accepting? Was it not I who gave that kid a chance by allowing him to work here?" I froze. He did have a point. I was going to argue that Kurt shouldn't have to be a servant, but of course that goes against the way society works. "Everyone has a place in this world, Blaine. For some that place is on the floor shining our shoes."

"Do you believe that?" I asked. "That the sole purpose of a person's existence should be waiting on the virtueless?" He simply frowned and squared his shoulders. Clearly he didn't expect me to question him.

"What has brought all this on?" He questioned me. "You never spoke out of turn like this before. This new attitude really is because of him, isn't it?" I could not let him think this about Kurt, because if he fired him he would be tossed out onto the streets again.

"I have my own mind; I refuse to bite my tongue." I said simply. He continued to approach me.

"This is not proper, Blaine. You will stay away from that servant boy; he clearly is provoking your rebellious attitude." He sounded so disappointed in me, and for a moment I actually felt bad. Only for a moment.

"I am sorry, father, but it is not fair for you to stop me speaking with him. He is still a servant, so he still must continue his duties." I explained calmly. I had to keep my voice even, if I let slip even for a moment that I was concerned then I just knew he'd make his conditions worse.

"And he will," He said with a nod. "He will serve Mr Karofsky's son until his departure and then he shall continue his duties – but you may not allow him to do work for you." I stared at him, but before I could protest he spoke over me again. "Whether you like it or not, your actions are decided by me. Friendship with a servant is not the way society works, and the sooner you grow up and realise that the better."

Before I could even protest a knock sounded at the door. My father approached the door and opened it. I don't know how to explain the way I felt upon seeing Kurt as he hovered in the doorway. I was so very happy to see him, but embarrassed because of the kiss, and concerned because my father was in the room. Kurt looked way too frail for my liking. His pale skin was even lighter than usual, the bags under his eyes had deepened, and his whole body language and demeanour was off. My father pursed his lips as though he had tasted a rather sour lemon.

"What are you doing here?" That's when I remembered that Kurt had been assigned to Karofsky. He had no other reason to be here other than for personal reasons. He was going to get caught out and I could see it. He didn't expect to see my father and he clearly had no excuse for being here. I noticed the panic settling in, could practically see the shadowy images of the damp streets reflecting in his eyes. Reflecting the fear of being alone on the streets again.

"I asked him to come," I spoke instantly. "I spoke to him before he went with Dave yesterday. I wanted to inform him that I would not require his services while he is serving Dave, you see he was unclear about whether or not he should continue with his other duties also." I heard my father huff in irritation.

"Very well. You may return to your duties now, boy." He rudely said to Kurt. For a moment everything was still. My father was waiting around, focussed on leaving only after being certain Kurt was gone too. "Well?" I saw Kurt's face smooth over before hardening into a mask that was unreadable. He nodded and mumbled an apology before leaving.

**0000**

The rest of the day was just as drab and dull as ever before. Nothing was really happening, and nothing ever would. The girl my father wants me to marry will be along next week. I don't know how to tell my dad that I'm not interested in girls. But, of course, I won't tell him that. It doesn't really matter if I'm interested in girls when it comes to marrying one. Marriage is a legal arrangement that connects two families. Tina Cohen-Chang. That's the girl that was mentioned. I watched as servants moved through one of the sitting rooms. My parents sat idly and doing nothing of interest. They barely noticed as a servant passed in front of them, barely noticed when they tripped and scrambled to collect the objects they had dropped. I watched as Maria stumbled out of the room and tripped over the long fabric that she was messily carrying around. Acting fast, I caught her. I didn't care about the fabric.

"Oh, Mr Anderson!" She gasped. "I am so very sorry, please forgive me!"

"Calm down," I said with a chuckle as I helped steady her. "You do not need to beg for forgiveness from me. If I had it my way my parents would be asking for your forgiveness." As I said this I ducked down to collect and fold the fabric. Maria was giving me a puzzled look. I didn't blame her. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Sir, it is not appropriate." She said quickly, glancing over her shoulder as though my offer would get her in trouble. I sighed and followed her when she started to move. She was glancing at me, clearly uncomfortable by my presence. "Oh, sir, you mustn't forget about tomorrow." I frowned.

"Tomorrow?" She nodded and kept walking.

"Yes, sir. A ball is being held in town. Miss Chang will be there, it is your chance to win her over properly before her stay." I couldn't help but sigh at that. I didn't want to spend my life attached to someone who I would never love. Why can I not live my life the way I choose to? What I am doing day to day is not living. What the servants are doing is not living. It's surviving. I can't comprehend how this kind of treatment is acceptable. Had Maria been born to a family of wealth she would have been a different person. Had my parents not been wealthy I would be where Maria is.

"I understand, thank you." My reply was hesitant, uncaring. I could tell that Maria had caught onto that.

"You sound sad, sir." She said. "Is there a problem?" I nodded with a soft smile.

"There is a problem, but compared to yours and the others – it is really nothing." She stopped and turned to me. Suddenly she didn't seem sheepish or shy.

"If something is bothering you, no matter how big or small, then it is a problem. The size of another person's problem does not lessen your own." I never thought about it like that. I looked at her, unsure of what to say. But all she did was smile and continue walking on. I leaned against the wall while processing what she had said. Suddenly I saw someone ghost past me, silent and detached. It took me a moment to realise that it was Kurt. I called out to him, but he did not turn to face me. He left the building and I could not help but wonder why. Hesitantly I walked to Karofsky's room and knocked on the door. He let me in.

"It's you." He said with a roll of his eyes as he went to sit back down. I entered the room and closed the door. "Well, c'mon, what do you want?" He asked. He gestured to an open seat, but I refused to take it and instead chose to remain standing.

"I saw Kurt leave the mansion. Did something happen?" Karofsky narrowed his eyes. Odd. He had never minded me talking to him about the servants before. Was it because of the past Karofsky had with Kurt? Did he think he still felt like Kurt's employer? No. It was something more than that. I could see his eyes seemed to darken, he seemed possessive. His shoulders had subconsciously squared up, like a beast preparing to pounce.

"What does it have to do with you?" He questioned suddenly. "As long as I'm here he's _my _servant." I didn't like that. I didn't like how he claimed ownership of Kurt in that way. I had to keep calm to prevent myself from going slightly red with anger.

"Did you hurt him?" I asked, fixing my eyes onto his. The room was deadly silent. I wasn't about to back down from this. And then… He laughed.

"It isn't hard to hurt someone like him," He said. "Give him a pat on the back and he'll shatter like a porcelain doll."

"Did you _intentionally _hurt him?" I fired back a split second after he had finished speaking. I saw the amusement drain slightly from his face. He nodded once. I clenched my fists and barrelled towards him. Just as I had grabbed his shirt and pulled him to his feet he laughed again and pushed me away.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," He said. "You see, he was fired by my father because he got violent-"

"He was defending himself."

"-but your father does not know this. All it would take would be for me to speak to him. Explain how I know Hummel. Where do you think he would be then?" He asked. I had to resist the erg to remain grounded. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. Kurt would be forced on the streets again, and who knows if he'd even survive. That and I just couldn't bear the thought of never seeing him again. "And to answer your question, he's gone out to do something for me."

"To do what?" I glared.

"He's gone to get some bread from town." I froze with widened eyes.

"_She was killed. S-Some homeless man saw her pass in the street. She had some bread with her, and he was desperate. He attacked her and stole the bread." _

Kurt's mother had been killed while going out specifically for bread. The first thing that came to my head was the image of Kurt's face upon hearing the order. He had to go and do the very thing that got his mother killed. The memories must be slowly and agonisingly ripping him apart. Along with that there is the fear of meeting the same fate. I had no choice. I had to go and find him; I needed to get to him in case something happened. The streets are not safe and… Oh no, how could I forget?

The Militia are in town today…

**Sorry for the delay everyone, I've been up to my eyes in stuff to do in preparation for University. That's right, I passed my college exams and am moving up haha. Anyway, I am aware that this chapter is not as long BUT – the next chapter will follow Kurt as he tries to come to terms with travelling through the town while the Militia is around. Nice and lengthy. **


	8. Skyscraper

**Hey, everyone! Apologies again for the delay in the publishing of this chapter. To make up for it there will be a surprise change in narrative. While this chapter is focussed on Kurt and his point of view, another character will still feature. Enjoy! **

I froze when I heard Karofsky's order. Immediately I could hear nothing but chaos. In reality Karofsky was looking at me expectantly. He didn't know what he'd done, didn't know he'd triggered such painful memories. I doubt he'd care even if he was aware. I could see it again, clear as day, my mother lying on the ground with my dad sobbing and screaming over her. Would I meet the same end as my mother? As a servant I don't count as a valued human life. I'm easily replaceable. Servants have been made to accept death whenever it comes. Does it hurt? Is it instant? I bet you're wondering why I'm asking all these questions. It's because I want to know what my mother's final minutes were like. I felt a pressure build behind my eyes. Not caring about what would happen next, I fled the room.

I rushed through the mansion, silent and battling my internal demons that repeated my fears loudly. They echoed and twisted, making the pressure behind my eyes more difficult to control. As I moved, oblivious and detached from reality I heard a voice call out my name. Blaine?

"_Kurt, listen, I was told that your mother was attacked." _

No! I can't remind myself of that day. I kept moving, trying desperately to keep my tears hidden. Crying will solve nothing. I have to fight and keep going; I'm not going to be able to do that if I'm crying. I turned a corner, the voice behind me fading. I grabbed a large black coat from the servants' quarters before leaving the mansion. The sharp cold air stung against my skin as I drew the collar of the coat up to shield part of my face.

I had been walking for a while now. To servants being allowed to leave the mansion and go into town is a blessing. But for me it's a nightmare. I feel like a bird trapped in a cage - despite being a prisoner I know I am at least safe. But outside my cage is where all the monsters are. In my cage I at least know I'll be fine, but out in the real world – out where man would harm each other to the point of death… Based on that, is there any freedom? I suppose the main freedom I have is having someone to talk to. Mrs Amaro, Maria, Justin… And Blaine, of course. Blaine. I'm more confused now than ever before. He kissed me, and I liked it. Of course nothing can become of it. I had hoped to speak to him about it today but his father was in the room. I knew it was only a matter of time before his father realised that we were friends. Wait… Friends. Wow, I guess Blaine is my friend. The thought made me smile.

I looked up from my thoughts to see the street I was walking through. I recognised it, of course. I used to live on this street when I was out of work. The buildings were tall but weathered by storms and time. The main colours on the street were: black, brown, and grey. The only flashes of colour came from those on the streets that had managed to steal fabric from the carts in the town nearby. I walked slowly and took it all in. There was a woman, near bone thin and carrying a small baby boy – who was crying. The woman was shaking; I could tell that she had sold most of her clothing in order to pay for food for her son. I felt terrible for her. After all, minus being a mother, I was her at one point. Without a moment's hesitation I walked over and knelt down. The baby stopped crying and looked at me with widened eyes. The woman weakly raised her head. She was pretty young. Her hair was greasy and black; there were bags under her eyes. I offered her a sad but understanding smile as I removed my coat and draped it over her shoulders. I could easily claim the coat was lost during a windy day in the town, no-one would mind. But this woman needed warmth more than I did right now. She stared at me and then put a hand on my wrist.

"B-Bless you, boy." Her voice was hoarse and strained. She was becoming dehydrated. I watched her kiss her son's head. There is nothing more I can do. I knew that when desperate enough she would sell my coat to pay for food for her son. But even then she would not get as much. It was clear that those working in shops did not favour the homeless, not when most of the time they lost out on business due to them. With a small sigh I stood up and continued on down the street. A little girl ran past me, holding a strip of fabric that was midnight blue. The pure colour ripped through the setting like a wisp of magic. The little girl giggled slightly as it flew in the breeze. Innocence. She ran to her mother and tied the fabric in her hair like a band. The mother smiled softly and hugged the child close to her.

One boy passed me with a cautious look as he dragged his little sister by. He looked to be at least thirteen while she looked to be approximately eight. The air was thick and tainted with the stench of the people who had not showered or had been fishing for rubbish in the bins. I held a hand to my mouth and nose and continued to walk. One little boy was coughing hard and leaning against one of the buildings. He was alone and was at least ten years old. I approached him. He was short and thin, but not dangerously so. My guess is someone was looking after him, but judging by his grief stricken demeanour I guessed that whoever that person was… they weren't around anymore.

"Are you ill?" I asked him softly. The little boy just coughed harder and nodded, not caring who he was talking to at this point.

"I-I need a bit more for m-medicine." He opened his hand and showed me the money he had. He didn't need much more. Only one penny. I fished into my pocket and retrieved one before dropping it into his hand. "O-Oh, sir, I couldn't!" Modest little guy.

"No need to call me 'sir'," I told him. "Go and get some medicine." He smiled and hugged me suddenly. I blinked but couldn't stop the smile as I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him back. The little boy let go and ran joyfully from the street. I paused for a beat before getting up and leaving the damp streets behind.

The town wasn't big, but it also wasn't small. I remember being very young and having to run in order to dodge shop owners that screamed at me for being too close by. They could identify a homeless person a mile away, unlike others who carried on their lives blissfully unaware of the dying men and women beside them in the street. The smells of the town mixed together in an extremely unpleasant way. The stench of the homeless mingled with the intoxicating aroma caused by the freshly baked goods that only the wealthy could afford. I approached one of the bakeries when I heard a sharp gasp pierce through the air. Turning I found the offending sound. A man was attached to a wooden spike in the centre of the street, bloodied and beaten. How had I not noticed this before now?

The man had long tangled brown hair that hid his face, but not shielding the shame radiating off of him. Did I know this man? No. Did that make this any easier to see? Of course not. His skin was scarred and painted in various shades of red and purple. It was unease to look at, but not so much so as hearing his screams. The last time I had heard a scream so painful was when my mother had died. The whip carried by a man in uniform came smacking down, provoking another agonising scream. A string of blood slid down from a newly open cut. The members of the Militia shouted abuse and some members of the street even threw bits of food and paper at the screaming man who was slowly being torn apart. I don't know what this man has done, I don't know his story. But still, this treatment was cruel. He dug his fingers deep into the wooden spike that trapped him there, wood getting stuck under his fingernails. Soon the screams from all the people rose in volume and the foul stench of blood wafted through the air. Everyone was moving so fast, and the snapping of the whip seemed to get louder and louder. I stumbled sideways towards the bakery, leaning on the wall for support. Everything was so overwhelming. I have seen so many harsh things done to people, but never have I witnessed something like this.

"_Stay away from the main streets today, son." _My father had said to me in the past.

"_Why, dad?" _I had asked in reply.

"_Because terrible things will be happening today, son." _

I felt sick watching the very thing my dad had warned me about. I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to block it all out, will it to be a demon of my mind instead of real life. The screams didn't stop, I couldn't will them away. I felt tears coming to his eyes but I made sure to keep them back. Why did no-one else seem disgusted by this? How much more inhuman could we all become?

"_Don't terrible things always happen?"_

"Sir?" A voice asked. I didn't respond at first – why would I? No-one ever called me that, apart from the little boy who I had provided with money for medicine. "Sir?" The voice insisted again before giving me a gentle nudge. My eyes flew open. I saw a confused yet slightly concerned face looking at me. It was a young man with short black hair. "Are you okay?" I gulped and nodded; glancing at his shirt I saw a name tag. His name was Mike. It seemed that he was one of the assistant workers at one of the shops lining the street. He put a hand on my shoulder and something told me this man wasn't going to deem me just a servant and shoo me away. Instead he brought me inside the bakery and guided me to a chair. "Did you want to get something?" For a moment I couldn't speak for fear of throwing up.

"B-Bread." I said eventually, rubbing my face with a hand in an attempt to calm down. The man nodded and a moment later the bread appeared on the table beside the wall. I nodded my thanks and dropped the money into his hand.

"Listen, you sure you're okay?" He asked. I glanced at him warily before turning back my attention back to the door when another scream sounded. I closed my eyes and heard the man – Mike – sigh. "For a lot of people the Militia are 'peacekeepers' who punish those that deserve it. I, personally, think it's cruel – even if those people have committed a crime." I nodded and opened my eyes. "You look a little sick."

"Feel it too." I mumbled softly, internally wincing at how fragile my voice sounded.

"I didn't catch your name." He said. I blinked and looked up at him to see if he was joking, but he seemed pretty serious. Odd.

"I'm Kurt Hummel." I said hesitantly, but the man either didn't notice or was just being friendly. He held a hand out. I glanced down at my hands, which were still blistered and dirty. Looking back up I saw the man smiling reassuringly. I shook his hand.

"I'm Mike Chang." He said and I nodded. "Are you going to be OK?" I smiled gently.

"I'll be fine, thank you," I said. "I need to return back to my master." He nodded.

"Well, if you ever need a sneaky discount – let me know." He grinned and winked, nudging me playfully. I was thankful that he had lowered his voice so as not to be heard. Mike seemed really nice, and I'm thankful that after witnessing that horrific display I was able to meet a friendly person. I picked up the bread and left the shop.

As I was walking back I started to grow worried. I was walking the streets with a delicious and fresh loaf of bread. I watched as the homeless men, women, and children eyed the food in my possession. Sad expressions, longing, and hungry. Some men had a crazed look in their eyes as they fixed glass orbs onto the food. I began to think of my mom. My pace quickened, covering more ground per second than I had before. I heard shuffling and saw a couple of people begin to move from where they sat, disappearing into the alleys. I knew what that meant; I had seen others do it when I was on the street. It meant _'ready to attack'. _I gulped and took off running as best I could. I heard footsteps all around me but couldn't see anyone, they were moving in the shadows of the damp streets. My heart pounded against my ribcage and dread filled every inch of my being.

_Elizabeth Hummel lifted the collar of her jacket in a vain attempt to escape the cold. Raising her eyes to the sky she could see that it would soon rain. Hoping to get back to the mansion before that happened, she quickened her pace. She smiled softly at the memory of hearing her little boy, Kurt, saying he'd be more than willing to collect the bread. He was such a sweet and innocent little boy, despite their unfortunate social standing. Thankfully the evil of the world had not yet gotten to him; he always had a smile on his face and never thought little of himself or anyone else. In a way her son was the lighter side of her mind, a part of her soul that expressed the joy and hope that she held deep within her heart. A strange noise began to catch her attention, but the cause of the offending sound was simply a homeless man throwing newspaper against the wall. She shrugged and continued to walk, not noticing how the man's eyes locked onto her. _

_She didn't get far before she heard footsteps. Turning she saw the same homeless man from before. He was running at her unevenly with a crazed look in his eyes. She had a bad feeling, so she began to run – not wanting to see what would happen if she failed to return the bread to her master. She understood the poor man's intentions and she did not blame him. He must be starving, and though she wished she could stop and offer him a piece… She knew she couldn't. Panic began to set in the longer she ran, paranoia rose high when she realised that she could no longer see him. The shadows of the street seemed to breathe heavily. _

I ducked behind a corner in the hopes of regaining my breath. I'm not going to lie, I'm terrified. I have to get back to the mansion, I can't let anything happen. If I get hurt and left unable to work I'll end up on the streets again. Was this the fear my mom had lived with moments before she died? What did she think about?

_Kurt… Burt… _

I heard someone panting as they grabbed my free arm. I flinched and pulled away, running again without looking. I didn't want to see, I didn't want it to be real, and I had to keep moving. However, I wasn't fast enough. An arm wrapped around my chest, another hand stealing the bread from my hand.

_Heavy hands grabbed Elizabeth by the upper arms and slammed her against the wall. The bread was clutched to her chest. If the bread was stolen then she'd have to risk getting fired, if that happened her son and husband would be out on the streets too. She couldn't imagine her amazing little boy out in the streets, fending for himself and his father at such a young age. The man wasn't happy about the resistance, he grabbed her wrists and tried to pry them away from what could be the only source of food he'd find in a while. _

I struggled back as much as I could, my eyes closed shut in fear. I know a lot of people would hit the person in an attempt to escape. But when it happens to you it's terrifying and paralyses your mind to making rational and productive decisions. Another hand grabbed my wrist, they were trying to keep me still. Why? They had the bread, couldn't they leave me alone? Were they going to kill me?

_A violent resistance led to Elizabeth's head being slammed harshly into the wall behind her, the uneven wall ended everything. The man, who clearly hadn't known his own strength, stared at her as he ate the bread. He felt remorse, of course he did. He had taken a life. But in his mind, in his desperate mind, he didn't know if he could do anything else. Elizabeth Hummel was discovered not long after, but the man had disappeared back into the shadows._

"Kurt, it's me," The voice sounded. I wasn't listening, didn't question how this person knew my name. I wasn't in my right mind, I couldn't think straight or even register who the voice belonged too. "It's me – Blaine." My eyes widened and I pulled away with a new burst of strength. Blaine stood, panting. He had been running in his suit, no wonder he was so sweaty and out of breath. Suddenly a wild rage flowed throughout my body. I shoved him back.

"How could you do that?" I cried out. He stumbled back, the bread fell into a puddle but he remained standing. "Why did you chase me like that?" I continued to shout, closing in on him. He stared at me. He was confused and partially scared. I looked down at the bread.

"Karofsky told me he'd sent you here. I was so worried about you. After what you told me about your mother I thought you'd be scared." He tried to explain hurriedly.

"So you chased and restrained me?" I yelled back, tears filling my eyes. I don't know why I felt so betrayed. I was so scared and knew I was shaking. Mom… So that's what she felt before the pain came to her. I couldn't look at him.

"I tried calling your name but you didn't hear me, so I thought I'd run to you. I saw you were freaking out so I thought I had to stop you and calm you down." He felt bad for scaring me, I know he did. I'm not proud of my actions or words, so many thoughts and feelings were going through my mind at once and I became frustrated. I wrapped my arms around myself and shut my eyes tightly, I was not going to cry again. Taking a few deep breaths I managed to fight the tears off. I held myself together. A hand came down on my shoulder, but I was so shaken that I did something I regret.

"Do not touch me!" I screamed, shoving him down to the floor. He landed in a dirty puddle and hit his head against the dumpster behind him. It had happened so quickly. I heard him gasp and moan quickly, rubbing the back of his head. His eyes were closed but he was conscious.

"_Violence never solves anything, baby, we don't hurt them like they hurt us." _

His suit was stained, the white shirt no longer white. His beautiful eyes opened and looked up at me in surprise and slight hurt. He wasn't going to hurt me, he was trying to help. That's it. Game over. I didn't want to hurt him. What if he throws me out?

"I'm so sorry…" I said softly.

"Oh, Kurt," His voice was light and gentle. He chuckled softly. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

**Due to the time it took to write this, I'm going to post this chapter now. I plan to reread this chapter for any mistakes while this chapter is on the website. So don't worry if you find a mistake, it will be fixed soon. Hope you all enjoyed! **


	9. Amends

**A/N: Hey, everyone, I'm so sorry for making you wait. I've had a lot of in depth assignments to do recently and, then – of course- there is the busy time of Christmas. But I hope this chapter makes up for the wait. **

Kurt stared down at Blaine in a stunned silence. After regaining his senses and awareness of the situation, he quickly extended a hand and brought the other boy to his feet. Blaine nodded his gratitude and looked down at the bread, seemingly uninterested in his ruined suit. All he could think of was how much trouble Kurt would get into if they were both spotted walking back to the mansion in this state. Following his line of sight, Kurt let out a grunt of disappointment.

"That was all I could afford, I'm going to lose my job." But Blaine could see that the bread was the least of Kurt's worries. "And look at you," He said and gestured to Blaine. "I've ruined your suit!" Blaine had to resist the erg to chuckle.

"It's fine, Kurt, it can be fixed to be as good as new." He said cheerfully. However, Kurt's demeanour did not change.

"No, it can't. You can try but it will never be quite the same," He said, a faraway look in his eyes. "It might not be obvious but there will still be evidence there, it'll be a stain that just can't be covered up."

"Kurt," Blaine began. "It can be fixed easily; no-one will be able to tell the difference."

"If so then doesn't that make it worse?" Kurt insisted, the rims of his eyes turning slightly pink. "Not being able to notice that damage has been done, because it's been covered up? It will never be the same, even if people don't notice a thing." Blaine watched him closely, noticing how the older boy's shoulders shook ever so slightly.

"We are still talking about the suit, right?" He asked cautiously, his voice soft and low. Kurt seemed to snap out of a trance as he looked up. He smiled and laughed it off with a nod.

"Of course." He said. Blaine raised an eyebrow and glanced back at the bread.

_Of course not. _

"Come on, I have some money on me. We'll buy some more bread and head home." He paused for a moment. "Or perhaps we should stop at the tailor's and get a new suit – so no-one will ask questions." All Kurt could do was nod and follow Blaine.

**000**

One new suit and loaf of bread later, Blaine led the way back through the streets. By now the Militia had gone, but the remnants of the previous events still remained. Blaine observed Kurt closely, noticing how the boy was raising his head slightly higher than usual. Upon first glance Kurt looked confident as he moved with little hesitation. His raised head, his focused eyes… But Blaine knew better. He knew that the silence surrounding the older boy was a sign of his internal monologue. This boy was still a mystery, despite all Blaine knew about him.

"Justin will help you prepare for tomorrow." He spoke suddenly, causing Blaine to snap out of his thoughts.

"I-Pardon?" He asked.

"You must dress respectfully if you should hope to impress Lady Cohen-Chang." Blaine also noticed how Kurt did not meet his eyes as he spoke these words. He also knew that Kurt's own words had pained him.

"Oh," Blaine said, slowing down slightly so that he fell in step with Kurt. "Honestly, I keep being reminded but find myself forgetting." He chuckled, but was not comforted by hearing laughter from beside him. He remembered back to something that had happened not long ago, he had done his best to not speak of it – but he had too. "Kurt, listen, about the kiss-"

"Don't." Blaine blinked and looked at him. He tried to speak again but Kurt boldly interrupted once more. "If you should speak of this out here, where we may be overheard, we will both be punished!" He scolded. Blaine reluctantly nodded. It was true, of course. Times were cruel and discrimination was not hard to find. His hand brushed slightly against Kurt's.

"Prejudice does not last forever, Kurt, not when there are still people out there who can make a difference. One day, things will be better – and times like this will be seen as barbaric." Kurt was clearly listening but he still moved away slightly.

"Perhaps," He nodded. "But, for now, I am your servant." Blaine sighed and left the matter alone – for now. Soon they found themselves walking through the poverty stricken streets that Kurt had passed through earlier. The day had aged and been covered in a darkness that shined only with the promise of stars. The children, men, and women from before were now out of sight. The night had a melancholy beauty to it that Blaine simply could not place. The stars seemed to represent the many people that were surrounded by darkness, but still glowed with the gift of life – symbolising their own unique personalities and talents. Blaine only wished he could stay here, searching around for those in need of help. He prayed and wished on the brightest and faintest stars that glistened, just hoping that one day he could help them – or that they would find the help they needed.

"Kurt," He said after a while. "Did Karofsky hurt you?" He turned his head to him. Kurt's poker face was rather excellent. However, Blaine felt a small spark of hope as he realised he could now see through the mask that he had previously been unable to see through. At the same time, however, he was concerned to realise that his question may hold an answer he would not like. Kurt was not meeting Blaine's eyes on purpose. He was searching his head frantically, trying to rebuild his mask. "Did he?"

"In what way do you mean?" He asked. "There are many ways in which a person may be harmed."

"I need you to tell me if he hurt you, in any sense of the word." He replied coolly. Silence. And then…

"He did. But it is nothing I cannot handle." At first Blaine was startled to hear the confession. Normally Kurt only confessed such things when he was close to a breakdown. But now the boy seemed so calm and reserved.

"I care not if you can handle it or not, as it should not be happening at all." Blaine said sternly.

"Perks of the job." Came the reply, followed by an ironic laugh on Kurt's part. "Everything will be fine. He leaves tomorrow while you are at the ball."

"That is rather short notice." Blaine said. Kurt looked relieved.

"Apparently you are not the only one expecting to be wed." Kurt said. "A young woman has been selected to be his bride."

"Well, the sooner he leaves the better." Kurt nodded in agreement. Soon they had returned and so Kurt took the bread from Blaine. As he did he made sure that his hands touched Blaine's. He also made sure he waited almost an entire minute before he moved away, breaking off the contact.

"Kurt," Blaine said softly. "I care about you. Please, keep safe." Kurt, finally, raised his eyes to meet Blaine's.

"I care about you too… so much," He said. "I can't tell you what it means for you to look at me like that." Their eyes lingered for a while before Kurt looked back at the house. "I-I should go and take this inside." Before Blaine could speak, Kurt was already rushing through the front door. With a sigh, he entered.

**000**

"Why did you look so heartbroken when I asked you to get bread?" Karofsky asked as he broke a piece off. Kurt, who was standing in the corner of the room, looked over and then down. Karofsky waited a while until he realised Kurt was going to speak. "Listen, Anderson usually has a real good grip on his emotions. There is no way he'd be so pissed off because I asked you to get bread. Something isn't right." At that, Kurt raised his head.

"Blaine got angry?" He questioned. Karofsky noticed something about the response, but chose not to say anything about it for now. Instead, he simply nodded.

"Never seen a man run so fast." An unreadable look crossed the servant's face for a moment before vanishing. "So, what is it?" He noticed how Kurt began to grow even more distant than usual. It was little things that he noticed that Kurt wasn't even aware of. His shoulders lowered ever so slightly and his jaw clenched subtly. Karofsky hesitantly beckoned him closer and offered him a seat – which was accepted.

"Of course there was no issue in collecting the bread." Kurt said formally.

"This is an order, Hummel," Karofsky said. "I want to know what the issue was. I'm probably never going to see you after this, so what does it matter?" Kurt thought for sure that he could hear a lingering sadness in Karofsky's voice, but he chose not to question it. Though the atmosphere was not desirable, it was still tolerable.

"My, uh, mother was killed by a desperate man while she was returning back to our old master's house with a loaf of bread." He said. "I guess it just reminded me of her… made me concerned about if it would happen to me." He shrugged. Karofsky stared at him. Inwardly he cursed himself to the sun for having caused such pain. Of course he had caused much pain to Kurt, but something about this made it feel ten times as bad. He wished he could just open up; confess to Kurt that he liked him and that his actions and words were simply childish projections of his own internal battle. He could not take out his frustration on himself so he chose Kurt to bear the burden of it all. It pained him to see Kurt in this way – but Karofsky is afraid. He has a lot to lose by making his own secrets known.

"Kurt, I'm sorry." He blurted out suddenly. Kurt blinked and looked up at him. "I'm so very sorry for everything." Silence seemed to suffocate them both, but neither dared utter a single word. After what felt like forever Kurt chose to speak.

"It seems everyone is using my first name," He mused. "It is… comforting, in a way." Karofsky winced at the meaning behind that one simple sentence. "I do not understand."

"Look," He said. "When I kissed you before… You need to know I did it because I like you, and no-one can know of that side of me. I panicked… I panicked because I know how cruel it is out there, and whenever I looked at you…" He trailed off. "It excuses nothing. I have hurt you… in far too many ways. You needn't forgive me, you just have to know that the things I said to hurt you… they were all lies. I projected the views I held of myself onto you."

"Sir-" Kurt tried, but was interrupted.

"Please, let me get this out," He said desperately. "You are not a coward, and you are not pathetic. You're the strongest person I have ever met. I know I would not last in your place, not even for a moment. I'm saying this now because…" He shook his head. "I have grown from my foolishness. Yes, I have been unkind and cruel since coming here. But I was unsure of what to do. I will never harm you ever again. I just… I need you to know that the things I said about you, the words I called you, they hold no truth." Karofsky was red faced and panting. He had spoken so very quickly that Kurt had grown dizzy just from watching him. He dared to reach a hand forward, onto the boy's arm. He noticed how he tensed at the contact.

"Of course I forgive you," He spoke delicately. "You have hurt me, admittedly. But I see now the struggle you yourself have been suffering through. You are right, it does not excuse it. But I thank you for your apology. You must do one thing though." Karofsky looked up at him. "You must forgive yourself." Karofsky's eyes blurred with tears but he did not let them fall. "Do your bit to help anyone you can. Be brave."

"I cannot, I am not like you." He said. "I am a coward."

"Every human has fears," Kurt insisted. "But does that make every human a coward?" Karofsky thought it over. "You can be brave, even if you do not feel like you can. Do you know why?" He shook his head. "Because for a moment in which you struggle, for a moment in which you are hurting, or you try something new… you are being brave - simply because you live through it. And these mistakes you have made with me, the mistakes you have now realised… they change you. I am not seeing the same man who harmed me. I am seeing a man who has evolved, who has learned from his mistakes. Every human does or says something they are not proud of. But what is truly important in the end is how we learn from it."

"I wish more people thought the way that you did, Kurt." Karofsky said with a warm smile that had never before been seen.

"More people will, if you share this with them." He said. "Some people probably will agree with me, but they will realise this in their own time – as you have." Karofsky nodded and broke off a large slice of the bread and held it out to Kurt.

"I appreciate your kindness." Kurt smiled gently and took it.

"And I appreciate yours."

"Kurt," Karofsky said after a while. "Do you like Anderson?" Kurt choked slightly on the bread and coughed.

"I-I beg your pardon?"

"I ask it not in a hateful way!" He quickly amended. "It is just that… I noticed you called him by his first name, and you also seemed to be thinking when I mentioned his reaction earlier." Kurt felt the heat rise in his cheeks. "He is a good man." Kurt nodded.

"He is a kind man, truly. Forgive me, but I… do not feel comfortable discussing this. Not when anyone could be around." He said, gesturing towards the door. Karofsky nodded.

"I understand."

"But I will say this," He said with a smile. "I find myself intrigued with his story. I wish, one day, to become a main character in it."

**AN: So there you go everyone, another update. I hope you like it. Because of the long wait on this, I have not been able to full check for any mistakes. Thank you so much for your continued support on this story **


	10. SMASH!

Blaine Anderson was standing in his room, looking over the freshly prepared suit in the mirror. Despite being able to dress himself, it seemed apparent that Justin still insisted that it was his job to ensure the suit was perfect. He thought about the dance that he was going to. He thought of Tina, the girl he would one day wed. He didn't love her but marriage wasn't about love. His parents couldn't reach a dowry arrangement regarding Rachel Berry, so they simply picked another girl instead. Somehow, he felt like marriage should be more than a contract between two families. Honestly it should be about mutual love and respect. If you're going to spend your life with someone, shouldn't it be with someone you care about? Blaine pondered these questions daily.

"Sir," Justin said, snapping Blaine out of his thoughts. "Are you ready?" He nodded and let out a sigh as Justin moved around, clearing up the room.

"So, I heard David Karofsky is leaving today?" Blaine asked as he moved around to clear up the room, trying to lighten Justin's work load. Justin nodded but was wearing a conflicted expression. "Is there something wrong?"

"In honesty, I am not too sure," Justin admitted with an exasperated sigh. "Usually when Kurt comes back to the servants' quarters he seems more reserved – when he has had to face him. But last night he seemed… content."

_Kurt entered the dry wooden door that led to the servants' quarters. Speaking with Karofsky and knowing that everything that had happened had been for that reason… True, it didn't mean that what happened was right. However, it did mean that Kurt didn't have to believe the things he'd been told. Blaine's continuous support, and Karofsky's sudden apology, had lightened his spirits a little. _

"_Kurt," Justin said as he rose to his feet in greeting. "You're back." Kurt smiled at him as he approached. "You seem different… I take it that foul man didn't cause you any harm?" _

"_He did not." Kurt said, seemingly just as surprised as him. "I believe there are more to some people than we assume." Justin just watched him for a while, until Kurt became slightly uncomfortable in the silence. "Where is everyone?" _

"_Oh," He glanced back to the bedrooms. "Everyone went to rest early." _

"_I had assumed we wouldn't have much time to sleep, considering everyone is out tomorrow. Do we not have a lot to prepare for?" _

"_It seems as though Mrs Amaro made most of the preparations yesterday. Where she found the time is indeed a mystery to me." Kurt nodded with a smile, happy to hear that they would be granted the gift of sleep before the next day of work. _

"There is something I do admit to being concerned about." Blaine said eventually, a saddened expression melting onto his face. Justin glanced up. As servants that were constantly around they had to endure listening to mindless issues their masters spoke of. But when Blaine had a problem, it was not about the fabric of his clothes or the lack of pillows on his bed – it was about something that involved them, or their welfare. Blaine leaned back against one of the walls. "My father has forbidden me from communicating with Kurt. He has said that a friendship between servant and master is not appropriate to what society deems as proper." Justin didn't look as shocked or as horrified as Blaine thought that he would.

"I did expect this," Justin said after a while. "I mean, your father does speak the words of society. You're different, sir, you have the ability to question things. Many people will think the way you do, but it does not seem so because those people are either people like us or people that fear change." Blaine nodded.

"I know," He said. "I do know some noblemen and ladies who share my beliefs. The heart-breaking thing is that they do not speak up. Do not misunderstand," He said in response to Justin's expression. "They help in little ways, unseen by authority."

"I have no right to speak this, so please forgive me-" Justin began.

"Please, you are already forgiven." Blaine said, holding up a hand and smiling reassuringly.

"Changing society is a tall order. Little things and a different mind-set is a start. It takes true bravery to make those actions and thoughts known by openly questioning things." Blaine nodded and allowed Justin to leave the room.

**000**

The dance hall was beautifully detailed. The pure white walls were subtly overshadowed by the smooth gold that painted every edge and windowsill within the room. Blaine had been here many times, and as beautiful as he found it – he couldn't help but feel that the money wasted on the design could have been used to rebuild lives. The food was fresh and was delivered periodically throughout the evening. For a group of people that had three course meals throughout the day, they sure did need a large catering staff at the dance. He glanced at his parents. His mother was a basic wall flower. She didn't care for events such as this, so she simply grabbed a glass and sat at the side of the room. His father, however, seemed to raise his head in a pretentious manner.

"Blaine," A voice said. Turning he came face to face with a group of smiling young gentlemen. "Your head is still in the clouds, I see." Blaine joined in with the light laughter.

"It appears so, Wes." He said. The boys consisted of: Trent, Wes, Jeff, Nick, and David.

"You have missed a lot in the weeks we have not spoken, Blaine." Said David with a smile. "I am now a married man, as is Jeff." Blaine blinked and stared between them.

"Really? But I thought you were against marriage," He began. "I mean, you all thought it should be for love and not business." Jeff and David shared a look, having expected this reaction.

"We figured you'd take it this way," Said Jeff with a sigh. "We didn't have a choice, Blaine."

"Yeah," David continued. "We should actually be at home with our wives, but we decided to come down to see everyone."

"That and I _really _had to get out and away from my wife." Jeff groaned, earning sympathetic pats on the back from his friends. Blaine sighed and waved off someone who tried to offer him a drink.

"So, how are things at yours?" Trent asked, ever the positive person. "You mentioned in your letters about that servant – Kurt?" Blaine felt himself blushing a little, which was noticed by Nick.

"Oh, Blaine." He grinned, knowingly. It didn't take long for the others to catch on. "Golden boy has a crush." He teased.

"Be quiet!" He hissed quietly as the boys continued to laugh. "I know you guys know about me, but no-one else does – remember?"

"I think Kurt might know." Joked David quietly, causing Blaine to blush deeper.

"When are you going to tell your dad?" Asked Jeff. Blaine sighed and walked to the window, his friends following.

"It's not so simple, is it?" He said. "You know how my father is. He'd disown me, and then everyone will know." Everyone gave him sympathetic looks.

"So, what are you going to do?" Asked Trent softly. Blaine looked at him and shrugged.

"Well, you come to my house if something happens." Said Jeff.

"Or mine," Said David. "Since we're both married now- our homes, our rules." Blaine smiled softly. He really did have some great friends.

"Thanks, guys." Wes ruffled Blaine's gelled hair, causing him to have to duck under a swat from Blaine's arm. "I don't have any hair gel on me, Wes!" Wes just laughed and rolled his eyes.

"Too bad, because there's Miss Cohen-Chang." He said and pointed to Tina, who was stood a distance away with a glass in her hand. Blaine stood up, fixing his hair, and approached her with a smile.

"Hi, Tina." He greeted with a smile. She smiled back at him. Her dress was beautiful, but so incredibly unique. She wore a long length black dress with white diamonds glittering on the corset-shaped upper part. The dress hugged and accentuated her body nicely, the bottom part flowing out with a grey net that seemed to resemble cobwebs from a distance. It was unusual and stood apart from the other brightly coloured dresses warn by the other ladies. But it was still, in Blaine's opinion, the only dress in the room that actually had personality. "I am sorry, I didn't see you."

"It's fine," She said with her usual smile. "I saw you talking with your friends." Blaine looked surprised, and he did not bother to conceal it.

"Oh, you did?" He asked. "Why didn't you come and join us?" The smile he was receiving was weary now.

"It would not be proper, you know that." She said, sounding as if she were explaining a basic rule to a child. Blaine rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He kept forgetting about society expectations, mainly because he didn't understand why certain expectations seemed necessary.

"I know, I'm sorry." He said sheepishly, to which she chuckled and put a hand on his arm. "Should we… get a bite to eat?" He asked, unsure. She nodded and they approached the table. Tina saw Mike, the caterer who had arrived to drop off the baked food. Their eyes connected and Blaine knew there was something there. "Tina, would you like to step outside with me?" He asked. When she looked at him, looking ready to protest, she saw a look in his eyes. He was wordlessly allowing her and Mike to leave the building so they could speak. He knew what love looked like. She nodded. Blaine gestured for Mike to follow. He remembered Mike, he was the one that had helped Kurt in town.

"Mike." Tina said lovingly as she wrapped her arms around him when the three of them were out of sight. He hugged her back, giving Blaine a grateful look before he closed his eyes. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too." He said into her ear. "I brought the bread you like, baked to perfection – just for you." Blaine smiled softly when he heard Tina giggle into Mike's chest. The hug did not last long, but when it ended Mike kissed her passionately but quickly – for fear of being spotted. Tina blushed but kissed back. After a while they parted and Tina looked at Blaine, not knowing what to say.

"Blaine, I'm so sorry!" She said quickly. "I know we're supposed to be getting married, it's just-"

"Wait," Said Mike dejectedly, backing up a little. "You two are getting married?" Blaine quickly walked over.

"Our parents want that, but we don't share feelings," He said, looking to Tina for support. "And I will never come between the love you two have for each other." Mike looked a little nervous. His family didn't deal with the complicated life of aristocracy, so he was unsure of how to respond. "I also want to thank you again," Blaine said, attempting to change the mood. "For helping Kurt." Tina tilted her head.

"You mean your servant?" Mike asked. Blaine looked uncomfortable with the word.

"Uh, yeah…" He said slowly.

"What are we going to do?" Tina asked. Mike walked to her side and put his arm around her. "My parents will never let me be with Mike." Blaine knew all too well how she was feeling. He wanted nothing more than to be with Kurt and have it not be an issue. But he knew that it would not be smooth sailing. He had no idea what to do. His sheltered and pre-determined life was suddenly complicated.

"I don't know, things are so messed up." He said, frustrated.

"I can support us," Mike said, looking at Tina. "My family won't be a problem, but it's getting your family to agree. That and the fact that you're going to marry Blaine." Tina looked up at him, tears swimming in her eyes.

"We'll figure something out," Said Blaine. "We have to."

**000**

Kurt was helping Maria with the cleaning. Having the entire building to themselves was a blessing as it meant they could try and sneak some food for themselves. But it also meant that their masters expected the entire place to be spotless. It was dark, but not dark enough to warrant a candle – so Maria had decided. Kurt was dusting off the curtains while Maria was on her hands and knees, cleaning the floor.

"I like it when they leave." Maria mused, breaking the silence. "It's quiet. No more ringing bells, no annoying guests."

"Karofsky was not so bad." Kurt said absently as he worked. "I told you he apologised." He had made sure that she did not know about Karofsky's secret.

"Don't care if he did," She said, letting her frustration show in how hard she scrubbed the floor. "If we don't stick up for each other, no-one will." After a while she flinched and pulled back. "Ow!" Kurt looked over, abandoned his work, and dropped down beside her.

"Let me see," He said and gently took her hands in his. "You were scrubbing too hard, you got a splinter." They either used rags to clean the floor or a block of wood with a sponge attached, so they could put more force into the scrubbing to clean any arrogant stains. He helped her and then sighed. They both sat there, taking a break. "Besides, Blaine sticks up for us." She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Did you just call him by his first name?" She asked. Kurt gulped. "I knew you two were friends." She said with a smile, causing him to relax.

_SMASH._

The pair bolted to their feet.

"What was that?" She asked. Kurt thought for a moment.

"It… sounded like a vase smashing." The pair slowly left the room together. They walked around for about five minutes before they found a smashed antique vase on the floor. Just as they reached it, Justin and Mrs Amaro ran to join them.

"What happened?" Asked Justin.

"Oh, another mess!" Mrs Amaro complained with an exasperated sigh.

"Wait… _you _didn't knock it over?" Maria asked slowly. When the four established that no-one had been nearby, an uncomfortable silence fell through the room. Moving as one, Kurt led the way back to where he and Maria had just been. He gulped when he saw that the bucket of water had been pushed over.

"Someone's here…" Kurt said slowly, looking back to the others. It was not unusual for people to break into the mansions in desperation, but it was the first time it had ever happened in a house Kurt worked in. Almost as if timed, the door to the room they were in slammed shut. Now Maria really did regret not bringing any candles.

**AN: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and are curious for the next one. **


	11. Virtues or Demons?

**AN: I'm so sorry for the shocking wait, everyone. I had this chapter so close to finished but then one day the final product just stopped working on my computer so I was forced to rewrite it. **

Justin and Mrs Amaro were the first ones to compose themselves long enough to start moving. Mrs Amaro clutched her broom tightly in one hand while handing a lit candle to Kurt, she had found the unlit candle in a pouch in her uniform before lighting it. Justin had grabbed fire poker and was gripping it so tightly that his knuckles shone an eerie white under the glow of the flame Kurt held. Maria was handed a dry mop, and she held it uncertainly.

"I know you two have never handled a situation like this." Said Justin. "Which means that we have to keep a good close eye on you."

"What do you mean?" Asked Maria, grabbing Justin's sleeve before he could turn away.

"Times are always tough for people like us," Mrs Amaro answered, a protective and almost paternal softness in her voice. "There are desperate people. People who use violence, who do unspeakable things just to survive." Kurt knew that all too well. He thought of how it was that desperation that took his mother away from him. The same desperation he'd seen on the people in the streets, the eyes that betrayed that last shred of sanity.

"Someone is attempting to steal from the Anderson's?" Maria asked, her voice shaking subtly. All Justin could do was nod.

"We want to help them, but we can't. They know that. We can never be too careful, they are highly likely to come at us with violence once we find them."

"I can't hurt someone!" Maria squeaked. "Then I'm no better than the vulgar people that hurt us!" At her exclamation there was a sound. Footsteps. They were running. Kurt gulped and shined the light around, but the room was still empty. No-one was going to confront them, not unless confronted themselves. Justin covered Maria's mouth, listening patiently and carefully as the footsteps faded away.

"Let's go." He whispered. "Kurt, we need you to light the way." Kurt just gave one nod but said nothing more.

As Mrs Amaro opened the door Kurt became very much aware of the eerily creaking the large door made, a noise he had never been aware of before. He could not see much beyond the inches of glow the fire provided, and so it unnerved him when he caught a glimpse of the eyes of the paintings on the wall. They moved as one unit, each one of them deepening their bond subconsciously as they made a non-verbal promise to protect each other. There was the sound of faint scuffles at the end of the abyss of darkness. Whoever it was, they were in a good enough state of mind to know that they needed to be stealthy in order to make it out alive. Eventually they had reached the room reserved for balls. Slowly but surely Kurt opened the door and slipped in, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach with everyone step he took. He was aware that out of everyone, he would be the most visible to whoever had entered the building. He didn't know what made him do it, but he spoke up.

"Hello?" He called out. "Please come out, we're not going to hurt you."

"Kurt!" Justin hissed quietly from behind him, a hand on his shoulder. Kurt shrugged his shoulder a bit and moved around the room, knowing that he was playing with fire. Gently he set the candle into a holder on the table, but that had proven to be a huge mistake. Out of nowhere there was an angry growl from the unwelcomed guest. Kurt let out a shriek of surprise as he tumbled down with an unidentified person on top of him. The person wasn't hurting him, he wasn't hitting or kicking, but he'd pulled Kurt away and further into the darkness. Away from the light. Kurt struggled hard and looked back at the candle, seeing the faces of the other servants as they neared the table. They couldn't see him, and Kurt couldn't see his captor.

"Whoever you are, let him go!" Justin yelled out, gripping the poker tightly. "I'll start swinging!" But Kurt knew he wouldn't. Justin would never risk it unless he ended up stabbing Kurt on accident.

"You won't!" Roared the voice above Kurt. "Leave me alone, man, I just need some money!"

"But if you're caught, you'll be executed!" Maria said desperately. She looked terrified, reaching her mop out blindly in the hope that she'd find her friend. Kurt could feel the hands holding him begin to shake. The guy seemed to know what would happen to him. And though he was restraining Kurt, he wasn't actually holding him tight enough to hurt him. He was actually making a conscious effort not to hurt him.

"Sir," Kurt squeaked out bravely. "I know you must be desperate, but we don't want to hurt you. Please, maybe we can talk and help."

"Shut up!" The voice barked. "You don't know a damn thing, and I ain't falling for that bullshit, I'll knock your head off!"

"You won't," Kurt said. "Because while you're holding me still, you're not hurting me. You need help and you're desperate to do this because it means you'll survive if you succeed." He felt the grip on him loosen. "Please, we won't turn you in. Just let us get some more candles and talk, okay?" There was silence for a while and then the hands released him.

Not long later the room was filled with just enough candles that the inhabitants of the room could make each other out. The intruder had been a young man the same age as Kurt. He had a Mohawk and wore a grey long sleeved shirt and dirty trousers that implied manual labour. The man's name was Noah Puckerman, but he simply went by Puck as he felt he was a new man since he'd lost his family.

"My mother had run away to be with a wealthy man who took poor women from different places because he knew they'd fawn over him, having not had any luxury of their own. He had promised he would leave money with my sister and I, but he didn't. Last I heard our mother had passed away because she had an illness he hadn't noticed. And my little sister passed because of the manual labour plus the weakness of her body." He spoke with such melancholy, the voice of a man who didn't know what to do with himself. Kurt put a hand on the man's shoulder. "I don't care about working hard for money, but I was just let go because I punched some snobby ass who slapped some girl for accidentally dropping the fabric she was making."

"Could we somehow get you to work here with us?" Maria suggested, but Justin looked grim on the idea.

"It'd be good for him, but it was already such a shock that Kurt was taken on. Would Anderson really allow another his age?"

"This one has already gone through excessively manual labour," Mrs Amaro said as she took one of Puck's hands. "Look at his hands, rough and uneven. Workers hands." She gentled closed his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles. "You are a good boy, son, and I'm sorry to hear about your family."

"I'd work here if I could," Puck said. "But sounds like the old man here would find it weird if I just appeared out of nowhere." At that exact moment a carriage was heard outside and Justin bolted to his feet.

"Impossible," He breathed. "I was instructed to pick them up from the event in two hours. Oh, I shall never be forgiven for this." Mrs Amaro grabbed Justin's hand and together they left the room. Kurt and Maria remained behind.

Outside the carriage door opened and Justin gulped, already beginning to apologise countless times for the error he felt was out of his control. But imagine his shock when Blaine stepped out of the carriage with Lady Cohen-Chang. Blaine looked rather stressed and Tina looked concerned and partially fearful as she was helped down. She gave a nod to the driver, who was objective to the strange happenings and left without another word.

"Sir?" Justin asked, slightly breathless from his earlier apologies. "Why are you back so soon, and without your parents?"

"Worry not," Blaine assured him, placing both hands on his shoulders. Justin visibly began to relax and Tina found herself smiling softly. "The matter is something of which I will tell you quickly-"

"Should we really speak of it so openly?" Tina asked, biting her bottom lip in concern.

"I trust the men and women who serve my family with my life. They're not servants to me, they're friends." With that his eyes turned back to Justin. "Miss Cohen-Chang has a love that she should marry and I would like to help her escape with him." Justin looked shocked and pulled Blaine to one side, rules be damned.

"Sir," Justin began, his voice turning slightly stern. "I know your heart is big and you do not wish to follow the expectations of society but this is not something of which I can support."

"You don't understand," Blaine began, seemingly unfazed by the scornful tone the other was taking with him. "The man she loves is a good soul, but life has placed his standing at a lower class than her own. She and I share no love for each other, there is no reason marriage should force us together."

"With all due respect, sir," Justin said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "If your family were to find out that myself and the other servants were involved then we would be out on the streets like the rats they think we are." He was all too aware that his temper was flaring. "We have to be selfish every now and again, it's how we survive."

"I would never allow my family to do such a thing, and they needn't have to know of your help," Blaine pleaded with him. "I cannot do this alone, I require help."

"Your father is already keeping a watch on Kurt to make sure you're not communicating with him, as he forbade you from doing so." Justin reminded him, causing Blaine to back up slightly. He'd forgotten all about that. "Asking us to do this for you is like asking for Kurt to be slapped right back on the street. You are a good man, but you cannot fix all the problems of every person you encounter."

"Our lives are so different," Blaine said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We both carry anger for different reasons. Your life has been so difficult, I do not blame you for having such a harsh outlook on society." Suddenly Justin shrugged off Blaine's hand.

"Then do not ask this of us," He said darkly. "While you doing this would lose you respect, it shall rob us of our lives." Tina slowly walked up to them, noticing the uneasy tension that drifted between them. It was then that something caught Tina's attention.

"Has something happened this evening?" She asked. Her voice drifted through the tense atmosphere elegantly and caught Justin off guard. "A large plant pot seems to have smashed." Justin looked behind him. Puck must have done that on his way into the building.

"What has happened there?" Blaine questioned. "No-one needed to be outside this evening." Refusing to listen to Justin, Blaine charged inside with the other two hot on their heels. After charging through the hall with Justin barking after him, the other servants were startled and spilled out of one room – Puck following closely behind. "Who is this?" Blaine asked with a slight anger in his tone. All he knew was a stranger was in his house and his servants did not seem the least bit concerned.

"He needs help," Kurt said. "He didn't hurt us, he was just desperate. We were wondering if he could get a job here." Kurt's voice was enough to gradually calm Blaine down. Puck absently rubbed the back of his neck and said nothing. It was at that moment that a distrust had formed between Justin and Blaine.

"I will see what I can do," Blaine said slowly. "If you all could help me with something." Tina walked in at the right time, and Kurt's face dropped ever so slightly. He knew who she was. She was to be Blaine's future wife, but after hearing what he needed their help for, the smile quickly returned again. Justin watched from afar with a deepening glare. Blaine had not even had a conversation with Puck, didn't even know who he really was, but he was willing to give the servants what they wanted only so that they could return the favour for him. He could see right through the rich boy's façade. He began to question what he thought of Blaine. Was it possible that his virtues could be his demons? Justin knew that the other servants would agree to help, they all had their reasons. Maria was impressionable and would do anything to have her master show her continued kindness. Mrs Amaro was aging fast and had a lot of distaste for the world that she felt she may as well take a few risks. And Kurt? It was all too obvious why Kurt wanted to help.

As the evening gradually drew to a close Justin went outside and began to ready the carriage so he could pick up Blaine's parents and take Tina back home. The crisp night air reflected his current attitude perfectly. He could be bitter when he truly disbelieved in something. He may believe that Blaine is a good person, and he should try and change society if he had the power to. But this? All Justin knew was that this little stunt, getting the servants to help sneak Tina away, would end up in all of them getting put in serious danger. He wanted to avoid the hardships he knew they'd face.

"Justin," Blaine called out in his cheerful demeanour. "I do hope there are no hard feelings." He said, reaching out a hand.

"I told you what would happen to us if we were to do this." He said flatly, not even bothering to look him in the eye.

"I know," Blaine nodded. "But I will not let it come to that."

"You are gambling," Justin said firmly. "You are gambling with our lives. We ask nothing of you, yet I expressed to you my concern but you did not listen. Tell me, other than your apparent virtues what makes you different from a dictator?" He challenged.

"They agreed."

"Only because they felt they must to keep you happy and to keep the newbie off the streets. And Kurt," He shook his head and chuckled. "We all know why he agreed." Blaine blushed deeply.

"Justin-!"

"I will not settle for this." Justin said as he climbed onto the driver's seat. "I will convince them not to agree to this ridiculous task."

"If you should do so, would I not have to mention that you asked if a thief could stay?" Blaine hated to say it. Because he would never do something like that, but he was desperate and it was too late to take anything back.

But oh how he wished he could.

Justin looked at him sharply, the betrayal deep within his eyes. He looked so upset and so much younger than he actually was. It was the eyes a child would give when they didn't understand why they couldn't do something. The look given when innocence is taken and replaced by the cold hard reality of the world.

"I am finally seeing your true colours, _Sir Anderson."_

**AN: Wow this was a really long wait!**

**I'm so sorry, everyone. For anyone who still reads this story, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I have had a busy year. I've gotten into my second year of University, got two jobs and I'm a volunteer. Busy, busy. **

**I DID have this chapter almost finished but when my file became unresponsive I realised that I needed to grab my notes and really set some solid hours aside to go through the creation of this chapter again. **

**Any mistakes, please excuse, simply because I want to get this chapter up for you guys and while you read I will go through any mistakes.**

**I hope you enjoyed!**


	12. Injustice

The next day was a real big pain. The servants and I were gathered into the dining area at breakfast. Mrs Amaro had taken it upon herself to introduce Puck to the family, much to Justin's chagrin. Blaine took over for her, creating some elaborate story of how Puck had saved himself and Lady Cohen-Chang from some thieves while they had taken time out from the ball. It all sounded terribly convincing but I did notice Mr Anderson giving Puck a heated glare, which I could tell Puck was trying so hard not to mirror back.

"Very well then." Mr Anderson growled. "This had better not become a habit of getting new servants." Blaine simply smiled and shook his head. I turned my head to the side and noticed Justin trying to control some repressed rage. I had to wonder what he was thinking, why was he so angry? It wasn't because of Puck, I knew that much. So then what? As dinner ended we began to clean up. I kept my eye on him, noticing how he would stack the plates so roughly that they would give a terrible 'clank' each time they came into contact. The other servants weren't here now, it was just us.

"What is on your mind?" I asked eventually, unable to stand the tension. Justin looked up at me, his bad mood seeming to have stay evident on his face.

"I do not trust Blaine Anderson." He said simply. I was taken aback. After all that Blaine had done for us, why did he now question him? This made no sense.

"Why not?" I asked, suddenly feeling defensive.

"Because his virtues shall have a negative impact on us." He replied viciously. "His heart is huge, but he is blinded by the virtues he carries. He thinks of consequences later, only focussing on one thing."

"You are not making sense," I said, shaking my head. "How can his virtues be harmful to us?"

"They have already begun," He said. "And you know what I mean, because you thought the same way before you became friends with him. The divide between servant and master. You believed him helping you was not proper, and that if anyone should see that you would be at risk." He explained, trying to keep my eyes. But he's not, I was wrong back then.

"I was wrong."

"No, you were right. And I was a fool, I allowed myself to be taken in by his kindness, but now it's beginning to lose control." I shook my head and looked away from him. "If his father cannot get through to him about how his kindness to us is unacceptable how else do you think he'll get Blaine to do as he says?" He challenged, now walking around the table and gripping my arms tightly. I knew what he was thinking, but I couldn't let myself think that way anymore. I needed to believe in something now that my dad was gone. I needed to believe that someone with power could believe in me, could help me and the others. Some sign that not all of society is cold and heartless. "If he cannot get Blaine to understand then he shall fire the servants or at least make our lives ten times more difficult."

"My life cannot _get _more difficult!" I said, pulling away from him. "The worst thing that could ever happen did. I lost _both _of my parents. I need something, someone, to believe in." He now looked at me with sympathy but also understanding.

"Kurt," He said gently, seeming more like the Justin I knew. "Did I ever tell you about my family?" Startled by the sudden mood in conversation I shook my head. He bit his lip and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I had a little sister, a twin brother and my father." He began. "My mother had sadly passed while giving birth to my brother and I. Mark, my brother, was a brave soul. I leaned on him a lot for support. He was so kind and open but oddly never had a bad word to say about the rich. He said that life was always unbalanced and the people well off believed in a certain view of the world that we were blind to. He put a lot of trust into our masters, though the parents often treated him like scum. Eve, my sister, was 16 when I lost her. She fell in love and fled with a wealthy man who always greeted her in town when she ran errands. Our master does not like training new servants, but as my father was a servant, it meant she just learned from him. I have heard no word from her, apart from in letters. She talks of a small cottage she resides in with her now groom. My father, like yours, had a weak heart and I could not support him enough and he passed." At that moment his voice broke slightly and I instantly gripped his hand comfortingly. He took a few short moments in which to recompose himself and then began again. "As I said, Mark was a very open minded soul. He never blamed anyone for the treatment he got and he wanted to keep my hope alive. Like you I put my belief in another person. I put it in him. But one day another family came to visit the Anderson's, and their son was much like Blaine. He was kind and open hearted. But his virtues clouded his better judgement. He asked help of my brother, he wanted to escape his family so he could free his servants and take them away to someplace safe. Of course, my brother helped him." There was a pause now, a very long one. I could see the tears coming to his eyes, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall.  
"The boy my brother helped was able to get away, but my brother was caught helping. They had no name for the crime they wanted to say he committed, so instead they explained the situation to a judge. They instead said that he had broken into the home and sent the servants away. And so that is what he was charged with, trespassing. It was not deserved but the town made him carry such heavy things, while whipping him as he went." He clenched his hands tightly and I winced a bit at the strength. "The exhaustion was too much for him and one day he just dropped. Just like that it was over."

I was silent as I watched Justin, the cool and collected Justin, fall apart in tears beside me. I wrapped my arms around him and slid to the floor holding him and rubbing his back. It was the most barbaric thing I'd ever heard, but I found myself not doubting the story one bit. I remembered going into town to get bread for Karofsky when I saw that man being whipped for his crimes. I couldn't even imagine how terrible that was for him. And for a moment I admired the strength Justin must have. He'd been able to stay so calm and collected and had even been open to Blaine's kindness for a while, all while harbouring a tragedy like that.

"So do you see?" He whispered, pulling back only slightly so he could wipe his eyes. "Why I cannot trust this favour he wants us to do? It is not him I fear, it is what will happen to all us servants should we do this. And if this plan goes ahead, I will not leave all of you to do it alone. If you all choose to do it, I will go too. Because I didn't go with Mark and I've regretted it ever since." I said nothing yet, just rubbed his back, hoping to comfort him. I had no words. What could I say? What Blaine was asking of us was to sneak Lady Cohen-Chang away with a gentleman of whose identity I am now aware of. I know how the wealthy do not take kindly to this. Investigations would be underway, and what if they should find out about us? We had not heard of Blaine's plans yet. Now I questioned if I even wanted to hear them at all.

"I will talk to Blaine." I said softly. Justin shook his head.

"You cannot, Blaine told me that his father forbade him any communication with you. He has broken that so far but only because his parents have not been present. You cannot risk it." I felt my heart break at his words. Why had Blaine not told me this? So much had been told to me within just a few short minutes. I heard the door opening behind me and Sir Anderson stood there, the other servants behind him. He looked down on myself and Justin in disgust, clearly not fazed by Justin's tears.

"Get working now, I have no time for crying children on the job." He said harshly, storming away. I watched as Mrs Amaro, Puck and Maria poured into the room.

"Hey, man, are you okay?" Puck asked, gently pulling Justin away from me. Maria knelt down next to me and hugged me, as though she was trying to give me strength. I put an arm around her and watched as Mrs Amaro pressed a motherly kiss to Justin's head. Maybe I didn't need to put my trust in Blaine, I could put it in the servants. But then there's something about Blaine that entrances me every time. I keep remembering that brief kiss we shared. I believe in him, not because I don't believe in anyone else, but because my heart already desires to hope in him. Justin's story had made me think about whether or not what Blaine wanted us to do would be worth it. I didn't want him to be married yet, because then he would leave and be with a woman he shared no romantic feelings for. He'd be unhappy… as would I. I felt so conflicted but had to get to work.

**000**

Later that day Justin had gone to bed early, we had all insisted that stress and exhaustion was getting to him more than he'd like to admit. In the meantime, Blaine had come down to the servant's quarters to talk to us. I hadn't told the others about Justin's past, but something about the way Mrs Amaro was caring for Justin suggested she knew more about all the servants than I.

"The next time I have reason to be around Lady Cohen-Chang is the next ball, which is this Saturday. My family will be inside. Mike Chang, no relation, is the gentleman she hopes to marry." That name rung a bell. Mike Chang… Mike Chang.

_Oh._

He was the baker that had helped me in town after the sights of the town had gotten to me. Blaine seemed to know this already and gave me a gentle smile that made me blush. I shook my head a bit and refocussed.

"He will be delivering the food to the ball. I will take her out of the ballroom and it is your job to transport her to Mike. When I last left the ball my father grew suspicious, but this way if he questions where Lady Cohen-Chang is I can make up an excuse about her needing fresh air and some time to think on the marriage alone." Everyone looked pretty convinced, apart from Mrs Amaro whose face betrayed no hints as to her thoughts. "What do you think?"

"I don't know if it is a good idea for us to be involved." I eventually spoke him. I noticed the shocked look from Maria, and the half bored look from Puck. Mrs Amaro, again, did not change her expression. Blaine… He looked so hurt and betrayed. I hated to see him like that. "I mean… if anyone sees servants near the building, people will assume that something shady is going on." Maria bit her lip and looked down in deep thought. Puck just did not seem interested and Mrs Amaro merely gave a little nod.

"I shall not let them harm you," Blaine said. "I thought you all agreed you would help." That was true. We did agree, because that meant protecting Puck. But now what? I couldn't shake this feeling that this was a bad idea, and just in case I'm right, I don't want Justin to go through what his brother did.

"Can we think on it?" Puck asked calmly. Blaine looked taken aback and almost like a kicked puppy.

"Of course," He said. "The ball is in three days."

**000**

That evening I was outside tending to the gardens when I noticed Blaine walked past the flowerbeds and in my direction. His hands were in his pockets and his expression was unreadable, but I noticed his cheeks slightly pink as he got closer – and it wasn't from the cold.

"Kurt." He said simply as he reached me. He gently took the bucket from me that I was using as water for the flowers. "What happened today?"

"I just don't think it's a good idea for us to be involved." I said, trying not to look him in the eyes.

"I don't want to marry her, there's only one person I like in the way I am expected to like her." He said softly. I felt the hand he put on my cheek. He was so warm. "I like you Kurt, I don't want to leave or be tied with a person who I don't like in that way." Now I looked up at him.

"I like you too." I said softly, looking now into his eyes. This was like a moment out of the many books I'd had chance to read. The crisp evening air, the garden of a thousand flowers, the glow of the candlelit laps around the garden. Just he and I alone. "And I don't want you to marry her, I want to be with you." He smiled down at me. "But I… we can't. We're two different worlds, we would never be happy. Not with how society would treat us."

"We would be together." He said calmly, moving his hand down and taking both my hands in his. "That's what's important." He leaned in and before I knew it our lips had met for a second time. It still felt like everything was perfect. My heart was soring and I felt like it'd burst in joy. When we pulled apart all I wanted to do was kiss him again. "I need your help though, I can't help Lady Cohen-Chang alone." I opened my mouth but I didn't know what to say. Do I risk it and have Justin reluctantly tag along, or tell him I cannot take the risk and then… possibly lose the only love I might ever know. I looked down at our hands.

"Blaine Anderson!" I heard a violent yell. Jerking away quickly I immediately felt sick when I saw Blaine's father charge towards us. I don't know what he'd seen or how long he'd been stood there. I just had to pray he hadn't seen the kiss.

**AN: Sorry to leave you on that cliff hanger! I keep my word, I now know where my story needs to go in each chapter and I'm focussed on it. I know I only updated yesterday but I just really wanted to thank you all by giving you another chapter as soon as I can. Again, this chapter will be released and as you are reading it I will be editing any mistakes so not to worry. **

**Please review! **


	13. Betrayed

Mr Anderson glared down at his son and servant. For what felt like forever a dangerous storm of silence engulfed the three of them. Kurt had jumped away from Blaine's side once he had heard the exclamation, and now they stood at arm's length away from each other. The cold wind swirled around the three but only one shivered, and Blaine knew he couldn't just offer his coat this time.

"What is going on here?" Mr Anderson asked his son, his voice way too low and calm for the situation.

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked as calmly as he could, but his expression didn't fully match up to the tone of his voice.

"I saw you holding hands." He replied, tone ever the same as before. Both boys felt bittersweet about the moment. On one hand they hadn't been caught kissing, but on the other hand they now had to find a justifiable story as to why they were holding hands.

"He was helping me, sir," Kurt spoke up bravely. "I fell and he helped me up." The sharp, piercing eyes were on him the minute he had opened his mouth.

"Speak when you're spoken to, kid!" He growled, raising up a hand in warning. Kurt instinctively flinched back a step with a faint little gasp. Blaine clenched his fists into his jacket as he watched his father interact with Kurt.

"He's right." Blaine said. "He merely fell, there is no crime in my helping him."

"There's no pride in it either." Mr Anderson said firmly. "I may have given this kid a job here, but it was to pick up the slack for the other servants. Don't think we owe them anything." Kurt looked slightly crestfallen from the declaration. He knew his master was a nasty piece of work, but he'd thought he'd been taken in by whatever goodness the man had. After all, he had filled Kurt with hope when he announced that Kurt would not be harassed by any of the family's sons. "I told you I didn't want you around this servant."

"I came out for a walk in the gardens and he fell so I helped him." It was easy to see that Blaine was getting frustrated. Mr Anderson's face went red.

"Fine then." He gripped the open collar of Kurt's white buttoned up shirt. Thankfully it didn't strangle him because his top two buttons were undone, typically because he expected this sort of thing. Mr Anderson began dragging Kurt towards the building. Blaine followed after, shouting as Kurt was forced to stumble along at a walking pace that doubled his own. Blaine noted how Kurt wasn't even trying to free himself, and it made his heart sink as he thought of how many times this must have happened. As they entered they quickly got the attention of the female servants. Maria slapped her hands to her mouth as she gasped, eyes filling with tears. "Everyone in the reading room, now!" Barked Mr Anderson as he hurried off. Kurt gulped and looked at Blaine in terror. Apparently he knew what was happening but Blaine somehow didn't.

Moments later when everyone, minus Blaine's mother who was resting, arrived in the reading room. Kurt had been slung on the floor and Mr Anderson stood beside him, arms crossed. Blaine stood away from the servants. Mrs Amaro had a stern look on her face once she realised the situation, Maria was softly weeping, Puck looked confused, and Justin looked livid. Blaine was just ashamed he couldn't stop what was happening right now.

"It seems I cannot get through to my son when I tell him to stay away from a certain servant." Mr Anderson said clearly, as though he were discussing the weather over a cup of earl grey. "So since I cannot get through to him I have no choice but to lock the offending servant away." Kurt's head was down but even Blaine could see he was shaking. His eyes were wide open in terror and Blaine could see the water beginning to show in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Blaine interrupted. Mr Anderson looked to his son and tilted his head up a little.

"I have no intention of firing this servant, but I cannot let my orders be ignored. And so, this boy needs to re-learn his place."

"Please, sir!" Maria chirped up. "Please don't lock him in there!" Blaine looked over at her, noticing how distressed she looked and how much effort it took not to begin sobbing.

"What's going on?" Blaine asked firmly, staring at his father.

"The attic," Justin answered for him. "When a servants needs punishment but does not need to be fired they are sent for one week to the attic. It is impossible for the person in there to keep track of time, so it feels like forever. The room is cluttered with whatever it has gathered over the years. The servant is given no supplies but has to clean the room by the end of the week. They're allowed out at random times by another servant, but only to use the bathroom next door. Food and drink is supplied randomly throughout the days." Blaine could not believe what he was hearing. His father would really do that to Kurt? Or any of the servants for that matter? This was barbaric, he couldn't do something like this. At the explanation Maria began sobbing into Mrs Amaro's chest, as said woman held the girl in a motherly way. Mrs Amaro's face was like a detailed work of art, you got what you saw but that didn't mean you knew exactly what was going on. Blaine could never tell what she was thinking, but he did know that from reaction alone that Maria must have been sent to the attic before.

Kurt gulped and avoided looking at anyone in the eye. He looked down and was shaking, but he wasn't crying. However, before Blaine could approach his friend someone else beat him to it. Justin had run past Mr Anderson and had knelt by the younger man, pulling him to him slightly. He had an arm around him, almost as if supporting him. He was whispering to him, but what? Blaine stepped closer and realised that Kurt wasn't just scared, he was actually panicking.

"He hates dark, isolated places," Justin said with a glare to his master. "He's been that way ever since he got attacked in a dark alley before he came to work here. Our quarters are different because he knows we're down there with him." Blaine processed this new information. He knew Kurt was afraid of being in town, but he had no idea that Kurt had actually been attacked in an alley and developed a phobia. Suddenly he found himself thinking of when he surprised Kurt in the alley. The reaction he'd gotten was the result of his mother have been in a similar situation. Turns out it was that and his phobia at work. No wonder he seemed a lot more shaken up. Why hadn't Kurt told him this before?

"It's okay, honey," Mrs Amaro spoke up, her voice soft and caring. Before Blaine knew it all the servants were sat on the floor with Kurt, each one showing a kindness that Blaine didn't see too much of in the world. Mr Anderson looked annoyed, but Blaine decided to join them on the floor.

"We're here, Kurt." Blaine said gently.

"Your family." Maria said, squeezing his hand. "We love you." Kurt's breathing gradually slowed and became normal again as he clung to Justin, who held the stoic persona of a protective older brother who had no choice but to stand aside.

"Enough of this." Mr Anderson growled as he yanked Kurt up from the floor. The others bolted up to their feet but Mr Anderson had stepped away from them.

"Mrs Amaro will be the first one to bring his food and take him out for the bathroom." He ordered, to which he received tears and glares in response. Kurt looked so scared and kept avoiding the eyes of the others. "This is all brought on by this boy and my son." He said, sending a glare at Blaine. "If you choose to blame anyone, blame the man who risked his own status. Now, if any of you follow me then I'll lock him up longer. So stay where you stand."

As he left the room a deathly silence drifted among the servants and Blaine. He'd messed up. He thought back to how Kurt was when he met him. Kurt was so aware of his status that he was insistent that any friendship between the two would not end well. Blaine had forced his friendship and that had make Kurt happy to see that someone cared, but now it was getting him in trouble. He looked to the servants. It had taken a long time to gain their trust and even now he still didn't know their stories. Maria was tearful and being half hugged by Mrs Amaro, whose stern expression held a million phrases that Blaine would never hear. Justin. Justin looked angrier than them all. He had warned Blaine that his interfering would cause trouble for Kurt, but Blaine hadn't listened. He thought he could protect them, but it turns out he couldn't. If he busted Kurt out then Kurt would only suffer more. He didn't have the power here and it was a terrifying lesson to learn.

"You did this!" Justin growled, forgetting his place as he stormed up to Blaine. "Kurt doesn't need this shit in his life, it's hard enough without you making things worse for him!" Maria had rushed forward and held onto him from behind.

"J-Justin!" She squeaked. "Don't, we'll get in trouble!"

"Why couldn't you just be a passive aristocrat?" He challenged. "Why couldn't you just ignore us? Then Kurt wouldn't be locked up, then we wouldn't have to feel this _betrayed!" _Blaine looked at him, expression softening. "You don't know us, you know Kurt." He continued speaking. "You took the time to learn about Kurt. You don't know what kind of suffering the rest of us had to endure before we ended up here. You're like them, you act first and never think of the consequences!"

"Stop!" Maria exclaimed. "If you keep speaking we'll be on the streets again!" Just that sentence was enough to make Justin shut up. He looked down, panting and shaking with rage.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said. "But I wanted to help you all. And Kurt returned my friendship too."

"But Kurt has been telling you he's worried this friendship you have will make things worse, he told you he wants no part of your stupid plan. You pushed them aside thinking they were insecurities. Blaine Anderson we do not trust you anymore." Blaine stared at him. No-one said anything more and slowly Maria and Justin left the room. Blaine dropped onto a windowsill seat and put his head in his hands. He had only been trying to do what he thought was right. He couldn't in good conscience just let the servants lives continue to be devalued. He thought of how much he hated his status. He had no future in the sense that his future was decided by his parents. He would marry someone of whom he did not love and live under the thumb of his father no matter where he went.

"You're a good child." A voice spoke up, startling him. It was Mrs Amaro. She walked to him and he felt like what she'd said, a child. He felt like a parental figure was speaking to him. "The world is not as black and white as we'd like it to be. Justin did speak some truth, you should take the consequences more seriously." She put a hand on his shoulder. "Think of how things will work out if you can. I know in your position that is difficult, but you are starting to try, aren't you?"

"If I get Kurt out of there he shall be punished. If I leave Kurt alone in there, he shall suffer." He said, looking distressed. "What am I supposed to do about that?"

"Give him support in little ways for now, dear, don't just into a situation on a whim. Maria and Justin will come around. There is more, isn't there?" Blaine hesitated for a while, checking that no-one was in the room. He had to admit to her what he had admitted to himself.

"I… I love Kurt." She smiled softly and nodded as though she had expected it all along. There was no judgement from her, no disgust or confusion. Just acceptance.

"I am sure he feels the same, but he does not understand completely yet. I think a little space will do you two a little good, certainly with your father. Mr Anderson does not like the rebellious side he is getting from you and thinks it's because of Kurt. If he sees a better improvement in your behaviour he is sure to gradually forget. After all, the master does not dwell much on us servants." Blaine nodded slowly.

"I… I understand. But… is this right?"

"It's certainly not wrong to think of how an action will affect another person," She said slowly, trying to get the words right. "And it isn't wrong to evaluate the best way to help that is not too difficult for the other person to accept." She moved her hand to his and squeezed it.

"It's just so difficult."

"I know, dear," She said with a small smile. "Just remember, you can help the person you care about see a light in their dark tunnel."

**AN: Boom, next chapter. Again any mistakes will be edited and fixed as you read, but I just don't want to keep you all waiting after that large pause in the story. **

**How about a little teaser for the next chapter? **

**Coming up: While in confinement Kurt discovers a secret hidden among the boxes. **


	14. Unboxed Secrets

**AN: Hey, everyone! So, as you all know and as it is stated in the description this story is inspired by the Regency Period but not in a specific decade. The reason for this is because I'm relating a lot of things in the story to song, poems or works of literature from different centuries. Just as a heads up if anyone is confused. **

I cracked an eye open only to come face to face with dusty boxes and cobwebs just out of reach. Groaning I sat up and wiped my eyes, I'd hoped that being locked up here had been a bad dream. But nope, it had definitely been real. The attic was horrid, I'd heard stories about it from when Maria had been locked up here but somehow I'd never expected it to be this bad. There was one window but it was covered by a pair of mud brown curtains that were connected to the ground through a series of overlapping cobwebs. The area was rather large but it felt so tiny because of the thousands of boxes and discarded pieces of furniture and attire that our master had deemed unworthy, mainly because they were sown last minute by Mrs Amaro because our master had neglected to reserve any in town. I gulped as I rose fully to my feet. True enough to Justin's words I had no idea what time it was, and it unnerved me to feel like I was standing just outside of time. Well, if I'm going to be trapped here and forced to clean I may as well be a little nosy. They would never notice anyway.

I knelt down beside a box that was tightly sealed. Curiosity got the better of me and so I gripped the tape and yanked it away. I was surprised to see that the box was not filled with little knickknacks but rather pieces of paper. I reached in and grabbed a stack. I saw Blaine's name scribbled neatly in the top corners of each piece of paper. Wait…

'The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner 1798'

'Flowers for a Ghost' by Thriving Ivory

'Courage is' by The Strange Familiar

'The Rose that grew from Concrete' by Tupac Shakur

'You've got to hide your love away' by The Beatles.

These songs and poems belonged to Blaine. I knew after singing and hearing Blaine sing two of the songs already that Blaine would have a range of musical knowledge, and I was blown away by his poetic knowledge. I guess I assumed that the wealthy were conditioned to learn these things, and Blaine really did seem to have a passion for them. If that's so, perhaps he hadn't been the one to lock these away. Slowly I reached into my pocket and pulled out the piece of paper he had given me, the one with the poem of the rose on it. Despite my surrounding I couldn't help but smile. I've been feeling a lot more confident and comfortable about myself recently, I know that given my sudden panic after being confronted that it may not have seemed that way but still. This affection from Blaine and the kindness from the servants.

"_We're here, Kurt."_

"_Your family, we love you." _

I have also been feeling a determination I hadn't felt since I lost my dad. Determination for what I'm not sure. My future will be the same as my present, but somehow I felt like that wasn't true anymore. I've read about and heard tell of beautiful places in the countryside, crystal clear waters that would not make you ill if you were to drink from them. Moments of no responsibilities. People running away from their restrained lives to make new ones for themselves. Those people called 'dreamers'. But I could never leave the other servants. We _are _a family, and I refuse to leave them behind. Maybe we could all escape together. All of us and Blaine. That'd be nice. I reached over for the small satchel I'd been given to store my water in. Opening it I decided to put the songs and poetry inside. I knew Blaine would want these back, regardless of what his father wanted.

I got up and began to tidy other parts of the area up, using an old bat to swat at the cobwebs and old fabric to wipe up the dust. My hands were beginning to hurt and I winced as I had no choice but to wrap my right hand up in a dusty old ribbon in order to stay the bleeding caused by moving much heavier boxes than I was used to. I had moved some many things that I didn't even bother to open anything anymore because really it was wasting so much time and the sooner I got it done the less work I had to do after my self-assigned breaks.

After what felt like days, but in reality was most likely just hours, the walls seemed to be closing in a lot more. I was beginning to feel really paranoid, like I could hear noises that didn't exist or see people that weren't there. I felt like my heart was going to stop when I came face to face with a figure behind me, a terrifying figure that just so happened to be a cloth hanging over and old mannequin. I just had to get out of here, I could barely stand it. I began fidgeting, not being able to stay still even for the smallest of seconds. I rung my hands together as I paced around the dark room. My mind began to drift against my will to the night I'd been attacked in an alley before I began working here.

_The shadows of the street clung to any and all surfaces that it could like a demon clutching onto its prey. The noises of the street fading to be replaced by sounds from invisible sources. Kurt had gotten lost in the alleys. The Militia was in town and he and his father had to run away from the commotion so they weren't trampled by all the prejudice pigs eager for their next show. Somewhere in the avalanche of people Burt had drifted off, and Kurt had no idea where to find him. Suddenly sharp cries cut through the darkness and from the flickering light of a street lamp Kurt could see the vague silhouettes of three people. Two stood shouting and kicking at a third figure lying on the floor. Kurt may have had a tough life with a lot to fear, but he hated to see such violence done to other people. _

"_Hey!" He shouted out as he ran in the direction he'd seen the three figures. The lights flickered and soon they were off momentarily. When the light returned again the three figures were gone. Kurt stopped and was left standing on the spot he'd seen the three people. He barely even registered the blow to his head, not even when he was falling. He was more confused than anything. _

_And then the pain came. _

_The entire thing was so blurry but every time he reached out his hand brushed a brick wall or a bin. He felt closed in, like he couldn't escape. What was worth is that he was so dazed and the light was so blurry that he couldn't even make out the identities of the people that attacked him. All he knew was that there wasn't three people attacking him, but two. _

_When Burt heard his son's screams and saw the three thugs he charged forward. He gathered all the air in his lungs and bellowed-_

"Kurt!" I jumped out of his skin, mind ripped away from the visions of my past at the sound of a voice I recognised. I looked around, squinting in the dim lighting but I couldn't remember where the door was. Slowly I rose to his feet and followed the sounds of the knocks, sufficed to say I was startled when a door slammed open out of nowhere. "Oh, Kurt!" Maria exclaimed as she pulled me into her arms and held me tightly. "Are you okay? I've been so worried!" I felt myself smiling a little but still squinting because of the change in brightness.

"I'm fine, Maria," I said, rubbing her back. "I'm guessing it's finally time for my break?" She nodded and I felt relief wash over me.

"How are things?" I asked her as she escorted me to the bathroom nearby. Maria heaved a sigh and looked down.

"Justin began shouting at Blaine, Justin does not trust him anymore." I admit it, I was shocked. "He said that if Blaine had not continued this friendship then you would not be locked up right now."

"Do you agree with Justin's words?"

Silence. That's all I got in return. I stopped and so did she.

"Kurt, you knew from the moment you finally met him that any friendship, however comforting, would not do you good. It made Sir Anderson treat you so shamefully."

"Blaine has been one of the best things that has ever happened to me," I said, forcing my voice to keep quiet. "I love him so much, Maria!" I froze and put my hands to my mouth. Maria quickly looked around to ensure we hadn't been heard. I steeled myself up, waiting for her rejection. Waited to lose a good friend like her, waited for her to tell me I was disgusting or delusional.

Then she giggled. I blinked and stared at her as she blushed slightly from her giggles, a joyful little smile on her face.

"Mrs Amaro and I already guessed that was the case!" She said like a little school girl. I felt myself blushing at her comment. Was I really so obvious?

"Have you kissed?" I was so surprised by her reaction that I didn't know what to do, so I simply settled for nodding. She smirked and winked at me. Honestly, who was this person? Still. It was so nice to see her so carefree. "Wow, Kurt, you work fast!" I gave her a half smile and, after using the bathroom, I was soon back in the attic. I tried to process all this new information. Shaking my head I decided to do a little more snooping.

I came across a small box that was hidden behind other boxes. The title written messily across the box read '_Confiscated letters'. _A frown came to my face as I sat on the floor and opened the box. On the inside were hundreds of letters and, upon closer inspection, each letter seemed to be for the servants. Myself included. What was this? I remember that Sir Anderson was always so picky about the mail. Inside of getting the servants to bring letters to him like others do, he insisted on collecting it himself. Now I guess I know why. I picked up a letter than was addressed to me. The date was… the day my father died but it was written in his handwriting. He must have written this before I went to see him at the hospital. I hesitated for such a long time before I began to read it.

_**Dear Kurt,**_

_**Son, I've noticed lately that you seem to be growing sadder each day. I'm so sorry things are the way they are right now. I miss your mom with all my heart and I wish there was something I could do to make things easy for you. I know you're struggling to pay off the hospital bills, but I don't want you to forget how special you are. I know that after all you've been through that this all might be a bit hard to swallow but I have faith in you. One day we'll both be okay. We'll get our own place and be our own people. Life can be truly unfair, but it can and will get better. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But it will. Have faith, Kurt. **_

_**I love you, son **_

_**Dad **_

I felt tears pouring down my cheeks as I read the letter. I'd lost my faith in everything the day my dad died. I'd hated everything about my life and I didn't attach value to myself at all. This letter… having it for comfort would have been able to help. It may not change my life completely but it would have been something to hold and read over and over again. Like I was getting the same support from him. But this letter had been retrieved long before I even had the chance to read it. I held the letter close to me and cried, cried like I would have back then. Cried for my father, for the dreams he had for us that hadn't come true. For my mother whom we'd lost so tragically. And for the growing sense of betrayal I felt. Glancing back at the box I saw letters addressed to all the other servants, and even though I shouldn't look at them, I felt like I needed to know who was trying to contact them.

Mrs Amaro received many letters from other servants that she had helped over the years. Puck hasn't been with us long enough to have his letters stolen. Maria got letters from her best friend who worked at another house elsewhere. And Justin. Justin had the most letters but one of them was shorter than the rest. I did not intend to read it, but there was so little on the page that I had read it all before I had processed it.

_**Dear Justin,**_

_**Why have you not responded to any of my letters? I know you did not approve of my leaving, but you still wrote to me and now I have heard nothing in so long. Brother, I hope you have not forgotten me. **_

_**Love always, **_

_**Eve x**_

Eve. Justin mentioned his sister Eve to me. She had fled with a man she had fallen in love with at the age of sixteen. He missed her terribly. He must have thought that she had given up writing to him. He did tell me that the last he'd heard of her was the new home she resided in. Looking now at the pile of letters addressed to him I could tell that he had missed out on so much. I felt the anger building up inside of me. The hatred for Sir Anderson was growing and growing and I just wanted to lash out completely, but I knew I couldn't. The next servant that'd be coming for me would be Puck. I needed to show him what I'd found. I had to wonder if Blaine knew anything about this, but dismissed it when I realised that his own things had been stolen from him too by his father. I want revenge on the Anderson family. Right now all I can see is red and while it may not be logical I cannot help it.

No… No I can't do it. I have my morals set in stone, I cannot betray myself on this. I took a deep breath and stuffed as many letters as I could into my bag. Sir Anderson was trying to break our spirits by cutting off the ties we have with others out there in the world. He wants to confine us to his own little castle. That's not going to work this time. If he's going to try to break our spirits, I'm going to make mine impossible to break. Finally I found myself believing in my dad's old phrase.

"_No-one pushes the Hummel's around."_

**Hope you enjoyed!**

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